The Last Exalt
by ClearlyInvsible
Summary: One last light burns in the darkness. A young woman with a blade of old, the blood of a Hero-King, and a mission from a Goddess herself. She must escape a ruined future to save her world and family. For the good of all, she must learn to stand strong and be the leader she was destined to become. An adaptation of Fire Emblem: Awakening, following Lucina's adventures through time.
1. Foreword

***Pop***

Right then! Welcome all to my new project, the Last Exalt! An Awakening novelization that will be following the story of Lucina's journey through time, and adding a bit of world-building to Awakening along the way.

I've been wanting to do this for a good long while. Awakening is still my favorite game in the series, even after going through Fire Emblem titles dating all the way back to the Super Famicom. The characters of this game are some of the best I've ever had the pleasure to experience, and writing about them is always just a blast for me.

This site's been graced by more than a few great novelizations of this game already. Invisible Ties, the most favorited story for this subsection, was what inspired me to do this. Taking the base of Awakening and expanding on it, working with the plot and building it into a full blown page-turner. It's an amazing tale to read, again and again. I don't know if I'll ever reach that quality, but I do like to think I'm getting there slowly.

'But Clearly, how's this going to be different than all the other Awakening stories?'

Two reasons. The small one is that this (Like all my non AU stories) are all linked together. For those who've been following my first Homecoming installment, consider this a very extended prologue. To the people who read Unforseen Consequences, you're going to see the buildup to that event in this story. The big reason is that this story is going to be following Lucina, from before she goes through the portal with the Shepherd children, all the way to the Endgame. This is her story, and the story of the kids. The second-gen Awakening crew deserve some time in the spotlight, and I'm excited to oblige.

This will be a long project, I'll be switching bi-weekly between this and my other one. But it's a story I want to write, and it's a story I hope will be worth reading.

So, sit back, relax, grab some tea and enjoy.

o/


	2. C-1: One Light in the Darkness

Darkness surrounded Ylisstol like a blanket. The nights never seemed to end anymore for the once vibrant city. What was once a center of light and life now resembled that of a dystopian nightmare. Black clouds hung above in the sky. New walls, fortifications and ramparts towered high. Soldiers marched along the top, torches and spears at the ready. Archers scanned around for any movement. Pegasi and their riders circled about in the air, patrolling endlessly. This was no longer the capital of a nation, it was a the front of a war-zone. A final bastion.

Within the protective works lived a populace, curled by fear. Most of the city was filled with refugees now, squatting in the homes of the deceased and trying to edge out what meager living one could in such conditions. The streets were dead at night, all living souls taking shelter within what walls the could find. Not a sound could be heard except for armed men making their nightly rounds.

Only two buildings in the city acted as beacons of light in this desolate world. One of them was the Basilica, the last place of worship for the Divine Church. People would shuffle in, day after day, pleading the Gods to save them from this bleak and inescapable fate. The Priests, Monks and Clerics did what they could to minister to the populace. Give them hope in a land deprived of it.

The second was Ylisstol Palace. The grand castle sat alight as always, Royal Guardsmen standing ready at the gates. Oil lamps, pyres and torches hung along the walls. Their leader had given the order as a message of hope. To show that even in the darkness, the light of the Halidom burned bright through it all. Ylisstol had not fallen, Ylisse had not fallen. The Risen had not won yet, and Grima could still be ended.

All of this fell on the shoulders of the Exalt. She was the last person on the planet who seemed able to wield the divine Falchon. An ancient sword said to be able to seal the Fell Dragon Grima, wielded by the first of her line to save the world from the apocalypse once before. That responsibility was her father's, and he had failed. Now it was her own.

Within the hallowed halls of the palace, in a circular room filled with regal tapestries, a group of men, women and children sat among one another. The room was once home to the Senate of the entire Halidom, now it acted as both a command center and an legislative house. The last of Ylisse's generals, statesmen, bishops and retainers were present for this meeting. Forty nobles in total, bickering madly with one another.

Debate is never uncommon amongst politicians, but this topic was one that would mark the path that they would follow. Naga herself had given them an alternative to possibly save their world, beyond merely slaying Grima. Instead, they could merely stop him from being resurrected to begin with.

How they would go about this however was very unorthodox, to say the least.

"This entire plan is madness!" An older woman called out from the rear line seats, standing up to her feet as she spoke. The robes of a Sage were worn proudly, an arcthunder tome freely hanging at her hip. "Are we really considering sending the Exalt herself on a fool's gambit!?"

A man stood up to her right, donning a similar outfit with a greener scheme. The hat of a combat mage rested prominently on his head, along with a few scars lining his face. "Naga herself informed the Shepherds that this ritual is possible. Why would she tell us this, if not believing that it was our best chance of survival?"

"Why would she not intervene directly!? **That** is our best chance for survival!" Another man cried out from the opposite side of the room. He wore the armor of a Ylissean General, broad steel covering him from the neck down. The people around him grumbled in agreement.

"The Divine Mother cannot fight Grima herself, we all know this." A Monk called from the row in front of the soldier, shooting a glare at the gaggle behind him. "If she could, we would have gained her direct assistance by now."

Rebuffed, the General attempted to retort. "Then what of the other divine dragons? Lady Tiki-"

"Lady Tiki is still assisting the remains of the Valmese dynasts. She is in no way able to help our people!" Another woman cried out, cutting his request off entirely before he was finished. "This is clearly the only option we have. With the failure of the Awakening we must take drastic measures!"

"These are not drastic measures! **It's suicide!"** Yet another voice interjected, and with that the entire room devolved again into a ceaseless hue of yelling, heckling, insults and anarchy. Each voice attempting to smother the other's argument through either logic or sheer volume. The leaders of the realm had, finally, devolved into a raging mob.

At the front of the room, the circle of seats formed two high walls around a small booth. It was painted a deep blue, with a white brand of the Exalt prominently hanging off the front on a tapestry. One swordswoman stood at the front, hand on her sword's hilt as she scanned the room for any spark of violence. Severa hated these meetings with a passion, but being Lucina's retainer meant she had to be stuck in these inane debates.

Five chairs were laid out in two levels. The first two were staffed by the leaders of the remaining Ylissean forces. On the right hand side was an aging pegasus knight Captain by the name of Phila. The woman's once powder blue hair was now creased with strands of grey, crows feet and wrinkles lined her visage. On the left was a girl, with short cropped style and a dark purple cloak. Morgan was young for a Grandmaster, but with her Father gone she quickly proved herself to be the best tactician left at the Halidom's disposal.

Behind the duo, the three remaining members of the Exalted bloodline sat observing the calamity before them. Cynthia figited in her seat uncomfortably, the Princess never enjoyed politics or infighting. Her eyes were aimed down at the floor in front of her, trying to imagine herself anywhere but where she was now. Maybe on Palla's back, flying through the morning sky.

Owain wasn't much better. The myrmidon had even less of a head for matters of state, and was only here due to the twin tailed bodyguard's forcing him to do so. Still, he at least _tried_ to act interested. Stroking his chin, idley nodding along with the discussion. Even if it was going in one ear and out the other.

Finally there was Lucina, the Exalted herself. She sat in her throne, ears attentive to every word she could make out in the raging debate. In truth, she didn't know how she felt about this plan herself. The idea reeked of desperation, it was something out of a child's fantasy. Travelling back through time was something she believed to be impossible until Naga herself had proposed the idea. But after what happened on Mount Prism…

"Order! I said **ORDER!** " The Hierarch shouted out. The old man looked like a shriveled fruit wrapped in a red cloth, slamming the base of his healing staff against the ground three times. His attempt to quiet the mass was as successful as one could imagine, just merging into the rest of the sounds and screams.

Lucina took in a breath. As she looked to her right, she could see her little sister shaking in fear as the debate grew more and more rambunctious. Silently, Lucina moved her hand over and rested upon the little hero in training's shoulder. Cynthia almost jumped out of her skin from the sudden contact, but when she saw who it was she relaxed. The siblings shared a nervous smile, before Cynthia sucked in a deep breath and raised her head. She was the Princess of the realm, she could handle this.

Once her sister assured herself, Lucina stood up from her chair and held her hands behind her back. As the room saw their Royal stand, whatever arguments were happening died. A wave of silence rippled outwards, with the young Lord at the epicenter. All eyes shifted over to her. Expectation, worry, fear, even some ides of betrayal were all shown to her. She had gone to Mount Prism to perform the awakening, and came back with a half prepared falchon and a plan based on near fantasy. She couldn't blame them.

"I understand that the news we have returned with is disconcerting. I had taken the Shepards to Mount Prism to perform the awakening ritual, but we were interrupted." Some grumbles resumed, but nothing resembling the previous madness. "However, this alternative was proposed by the Divine Mother herself. With the Fire Emblem incomplete, I am of the belief that this is our best chance to end Grima once and for all."

"Milady." The same sage from before called out, standing forwards and resting her hands against the railing. "Are we even sure this can work? Traveling through portals into the past?"

"Laurent seems to think so." Morgan chirped, rocking back and forth in her chair casually. Out of the five Shepards present, she seemed to be the only one enjoying herself in the chaos. Smiling from ear to ear, fingers drumming along the wood of the stand. "All we know is that we can't complete the Awakening without the last of the gemstones." The tactician paused at this, stroking her chin in thought. "Would that be a wild goose chase or a wild stone chase…"

"So we find the last Gemstone." A Nobleman called out from the far throes of the room. "Sending search parties for something tangible is far more reasonable than a romp through the ages."

"That would require sending men we do not have. Ylisstol cannot spare a single soldier." Phila explained, pinching the bridge of her nose. The poor old woman was clearly at her boiling point with all this absurdity.

"So we're doomed? This is how our nation dies, smothered in darkness?" A final voice spoke, spearing all the dread in the room at once.

" **No."** Lucina exclaimed, firmly and loudly. Her voice reverberated through the entire room as she took a commanding position. Any and all grumbles remained silent to her speech, every eye was directed to her. The room stood still as it waited for her to continue. "I've decided to go. As we speak, the Divine Mother is preparing the ritual."

"You're making a choice this monumental before you even consulted the Senate!?" The General roared. The man got to his feet, shoving his way down the stands past the rest of the onlookers. Lucina eyed him carefully, holding her hands together softly below her navel. Cynthia and Owain balked silently, while Morgan finally sat up straight.

"Am I or am I not Exalt, Mansfield?" Lucina answered calmly, walking down and out of her own regal booth. Phila eyed her nervously, not liking where this was going at all. She leaned forwards and whispered something into Severa's ear, prompting the mercenary to pace behind her young liege slowly.

"Exalt? _You_ , an Exalt? You were crowned in desperation, that does not make you an Exalt." As the man reached the floor, he marched over and stood at the front of the teenage girl. Glaring at the tiara resting on her head, before his raging orange eyes glared down to her face. He towered above Lucina, even without his armor. Intimidation was clearly his intent, and it was working. Try as she might, she could feel her breath growing shallow. Sweat was forming in her palms, her legs were shaking. She had already walked into this chamber frightened, this might be what pushed her over the edge.

"Your Aunt was an Exalt. She died years before you were even born, but she understood how to lead a nation." The man began, whatever expression he had was hidden behind his mask. Lucina imagined it to be a deep snarl, as if she was an ant he wasn't sure to crush or just let scurry past. "Your _Father_ was an Exalt. He didn't come up with insane, idiotic plans. He lead Armies! He fought across entire continents!"

"I-I…" The Princess stood there, like a deer staring at a hunter's drawn bow. The same doubts she had since during her coronation plagued her mind in force. She lived up to her father's legacy, she had to. Everything she did was so she could make the man proud.

"You. No, you're even more worthless than your scatterbrained mother." The man spat out, Lucina buckling like the words were a punch to her stomach. "At least she was a Knight. A soldier. What have _you_ done? Other than galavant across the land with your band of misfit friends!?"

"You go too far, General!" Phila finally called, standing tall at this point and gripping the edge of the booth that was at her front. At this point, the other onlookers in the chamber were grumbling to themselves. More than a few of them seemingly in agreement with the mound of metal's words. "The Shepherds have been the most effective fighters the Halidom has left. Without them, Ylisstol would have fallen years ago!"

"Effective fighters? These _brats_ are effective fighters!?" Mansfield stomped past Lucina, paying her no more mind as he glared down the other members of the royal family. First he leveled an iron fisted finger at Cynthia, the girl's pigtails practically wilting away. "This one can't even stand upright for more than five minutes! Five days ago my men found her face-first in a mire!" He barked out, before shifting his attention towards Owain. "This moron doesn't even know how to speak properly, let alone swing a sword! It's as if this entire war is a stage-play to him!"

The Prince looked as if he was having a heart attack, sinking deep into his chair. Phila attempted to speak up once more, but now he was on a roll. So much so that members of the crowd were now audibly voicing their approval of his claims. Lucina stood back, watching in terror as the room slowly turned against her. Men and women rising in their seats and hurling insults down upon them.

Deciding to take on two targets at once, Mansfield took a step back, then broadly gestured at the remaining two Shepard children. His large metal mitt sweeping across, the indifferently grumbling Severa and still smirking Morgan waiting for their own turn. "And what about these two failures? We made an airhead the commander of our remaining Armies, and gave a buffoon the position of royal retainer. All because of this 'Exalt' and her nonsense!"

"Bold words for someone in stabbing distance." Severa muttered out, the grip around her weapon having tightened so hard to whiten her knuckles.

Mansfield laughed, moving closer to the girl much as he had done to Lucina. "Do you think I'm afraid of the incompetent lout who failed to join the Pegasus Knights **five times?** " He stated. "Try it, child. Embarrass yourself more, I'm sure Lady Cordelia would love another excuse to be ashamed of her spawn."

That kicked it off. As the crowd's volume peaked once more, Severa whipped her weapon out sharply. Quicker than the General could react, the woman slashed up once and knocked him over as if he was a turtle. Everyone froze in shock, looking to see what would happen next. But Severa just exhaled, slipping her sword back into its sheath. "Idiot can't even block a swipe and _I'm_ the incompetent one? Give me a break."

Cowed, the remaining members of the room looked back towards their leader in question. For one last time, all eyes were on Lucina. Her peers, her friends, her detractors. Expectant and demanding of her, as they always were. The only person not looking towards her was the felled soldier, rolling back and forth as he tried to stand up once more.

Lucina tried to think back. Her father was never good with politics, so he taught her how to use the sword on her hip. Fighting was all she ever felt good for now, it's all she ever did. Day in, day out. Sally forth, kill what Risen she could, save what survivors were left, then move back. It was her life, it was all she knew. Any other memories of her parents had already began to fade, the only lessons she seemed to keep were those that protected her in battle.

She thought back to the people who helped raise her. Not just her Father, but her Mother. Queen Sumia was always soft and caring, her smile was often times a point of solace even now for her orphaned daughter. She was a lesser noble turned Knight, then a knight turned Queen. But the one thing Sumia managed to impart on her daughter was her hatred of the war. The desire to just see it all end.

She needed to channel that. This one last time.

"...I know I am not my Father." Lucina began, looking around her at the eyes and faces that hovered about. "I wish I was. Everyday I have to ask myself what he would do in my situation. Attack or defend, save or consolidate, fight or flee. He left before he could teach me how to be a ruler, that much… is true."

The blue haired noble suppressed the tears building in her chest. Now of all times, she couldn't afford to be weak. The fate of the world rested on her shoulders, on this plan. She had to do this, no one else left alive could. "But I know that everything I do, I do for all of you. For our nation, our people, our families." She explained, her sadness transforming into what she needed now more than ever; resolve. "I do not make this choice lightly. I do it because it is the last option we have."

She gestures over to Mansfield, the man finally having clawed himself back up to a standing position. His facemask was gone now, the pale man's eyes still aimed to kill at the young Exalt's heart. Still Lucina pressed on, knowing she had her chance. "The General is not wrong. It has only been four years since I rose to this position. Through my time, I have needed help. Help from my friends, but also all of you. I've put my faith in you all to help me guide our nation in it's most dire hour. For that I am grateful. Eternally, utterly grateful."

Her chest lowered as she exhaled from her nose. Lucina bowed her head and composed herself, one last time. Squaring her shoulders, centering her posture. Trying her best to emulate the mother she could only faintly recall. "But this is one time I need to have your faith. I cannot slay Grima. But I can perform this ritual. I can go back, and I can _save_ our world. I **will** save our world. Failure isn't even an option, it is not a possibility."

She gave one last glance to her friends. Owain was smiling, giving her an approving nod. Morgan did the same, instead offering her leader a large thumbs up along with her dopey grin. Severa just rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile graced her lips.

And Cynthia? Her sister looked at her like she was the greatest thing in the world, eyes wide with pride and awe. It filled Lucina's heart with joy, the person she always knew she could rely on.

With that, she gave one last declaration. Proudly to all, to ensure that she would not be their last Exalt.

"I will save us all. I swear this on my life."


	3. C-2: Atlas' Burden

Lucina paced back and forth in her room, trying to keep herself focused in the world.

The events in the Counsel chamber had almost shattered her resolve. To have her own people turn on her at once in their darkest hour was a fear only found in her nightmares up until this point. But it was almost a reality, and still could be. Everyone had left that room with a dour air hovering above them, not least of all the mutineering General who'd been brought down to the floor.

"Regardless, though I'm not familiar with time-distortion methods, I cannot disprove Lady Naga's theory." Laurent continued to explain. The young mage's eyes kept following the royal's motions as walked, rambling out his report as requested. "This is an unknown field, and I fear that we are stumbling into it blind."

"Just tell me if it will work." Lucina demanded, continuing her tiny patrol within her quarters. Her mind raced at a mile a minute, trying to think of a new way to justify her plan to nobles the next day. Naga said that the ritual would take three days time to be ready, and the faction opposing this last ditch effort used that as an excuse to levy an emergency vote for the next day.

"I cannot, in good faith or assurance, tell you with certainty if this will succeed or fail." The young man reiterated once more, pressing his spectacles back up the ridge of his nose. As Lucina groaned in frustration, he opened his journal and flipped through the pages. Notes upon notes, to the point where the black ink almost overtook the entire parchment. "I've scoured the libraries of both the palace and the Divine Church, and yet nothing even touches upon this ritual. It appears Lady Naga has kept it secret from us."

"I can't convince the rest of the Senate to go along with this plan on my own assurances, Laurent!" Lucina cried out, sinking deeper and deeper into her well of despair. "I need evidence, proof, logical conclusions! They won't listen to one girl and her band of misfits!"

"Then I doubt I will be of much help, considering I am also one of that band." Laurent postulated, continuing to idley flip through his compendium.

"There's a difference!" She protested, turning to face the man in exasperation. "You're one of the youngest people to graduate from the Mage's College! The child of one of the greatest researchers the Halidom had ever possessed!"

"Which is why you can understand I cannot materialize what does not exist, Lucina." He shuttered the book, slipping it back underneath his arm as he kept the same neutral gaze he always possessed fixed upon his liege. "There is nothing I can do without time, which we lack. The alternative is fabricating a conclusion, which I refuse to do."

"I'm not going to ask that of you. I'd never ask that of you." She dismissed, pocketing the idea deep. In truth she was just about to ask him just that, even if it was a betrayal of the man's own values. But lying seemed to be the only option left. Begging certainly wouldn't work, and coercion would likely just lead to a rebellion. "What do you propose I do then?"

"Politics has never been one of my strengths." He answered dryly, offering no respite. "You would be better off requesting assistance from Brady or Gerome. Or Owain, if you are _that_ desperate."

"I think it's quite clear I am that desperate." The exasperated royal finished, sitting down at the edge of her bed and hanging her head low. "Thank you for your report Laurent."

"I will continue my search, and return if I find anything of value your Highness." With that, the brown haired boy bowed at the hip, spun and marched out of the room with a regimented step. He had remnants of his father's training holding within him, even if he was the furthest from a soldier that any of her Shepards were.

Once she was finally alone, Lucina looked about her room and tried to steady herself. Searching for an object that would help anchor her into place. The girl spent very little time in this personal sanctum. She couldn't even remember the last time she slept in this bed, most of her days were spent campaigning outside the city's walls.

For the most part it was as she left it, ornate and opulent. The bed she was sitting on was the size of some of the refugee's tenements. Her closets were filled with dresses she hadn't touched in years, traded for the suit of armor she always wore now. There was even a balcony she could step out on, one that gave her clear view over the lands she still ruled.

What she would give for just one day of peace. She'd spend it all just here, lazing about in her bed. But that was a passing fantasy now, these were to be her final days as the Exalt of Ylisse. With or without the approval of the others, she knew she had to go. Even if she was forced to go alone.

So the beligered noblewoman just rested back against the sheets and closed her eyes. Lucina couldn't have her day off, but she could at least have a night in her own bed.

* * *

The next morning, she slowly rose to the sound of knuckles rapping violently against her door. Lucina's eyes broke open, her form popping up as she went to grasp for the ancient blade resting against the bed frame. The sun was just beginning to rise, the previous pitch darkness of the sky being replaced with a bloody orange backdrop. Her entire domicile enshrouded with the violent color.

The Exalt's first thought was that the city was under assault, but that idea was quickly swept under the rug. She smelled no smoke, heard no screams or sounds of battle. Merely the serenity of a morning, the mark of another long day ahead of her.

Still, the knocking continued. If anything it escalated, the person in question banging harshly against the ornate wood. Part of her wanted to call for them to leave so she could return to her slumber, but she knew that wasn't something she could do in her position.

So slowly, sluggishly, she made her way to the door. The teenage ruler turning the knob, and opening it to see the unamused glare of Phila.

"Best be wounded or deaf, child." The Knight Commander grumbled as she motioned for the Princess to move to the wayside. The junior complied, still rather groggy as the periwinkle pegasus knight made her way inside.

She hadn't changed at all since the previous evening, having spent the entire night asleep in her armor. Calluses were already forming all over her skin from the metal cutting into her. Her tiara was lopsided, half her hair was covering her face. Calling her bedridden would was being kind, much to Phila's chagrin. "You look like a complete mess. One night in your room has already turned you into a slug-a-bed."

"I think I'm permitted one morning's rest, Captain." Lucina answered, grumbling as she shut the door behind her and began to pace back towards her bed.

"Captain- _General._ Get it right, you're the one who gave me the rank." Phila's glare renewed as she saw the young woman slump back down onto her mattress, walking over to stand at the foot of the frame. "You realize it is almost noon, correct? Half a day gone lounging about like some decadent Empress."

"Yes, and when I said one morning I meant _a full morning._ " Lucina grumbled, setting herself up against the headboard. "I have advisors to handle the lesser details, they can last on their own without me. I am entitled to a little of this so called decadence."

"Ridiculous. You are nearing your ninteenth birthday, do not act like the teenager you no longer are." Phila maintained her stern expression, perusing the room with her eyes. "You've already left the castle in a panic. No one else even thought to check up here."

Lucina groaned, slouching deeper into the bed. "This is my room. It's been my room since I was an infant!"

"A room you have not slept in for ages. The cobwebs here are dreadful." Phila turned her head to look above, if only to make her point. "Your aunt would have a heart attack if she saw the state this place was in."

"I doubt my aunt cared much for cleaning, Phila." Lucina protested, kicking a few sheets down to the edge of the mattress. "If memory serves she was the one who made messes more often than not."

"She also made sure to clean them up. Clearly that isn't a lesson that's been passed down to one of her nieces." Phila gave the frame a firm kick, jolting Lucina up from her relaxed posture. "Maybe I should put you through my drills again, it seems like you learned nothing from them."

The Exalt sighed and finally sat herself up, crossing her legs atop the mattress and swiping the wild strands of blue hair away from her face. "Is it so wrong that I wanted a few hours to myself?"

Phila snorted, moving about so she stood at her liege's flank. Her dulled gold-laid armor glinting with every step. "No, not at all. But your failure to inform anyone of this is dereliction. If you were one of my Knights, I'd have you clean the stables for the next month."

Lucina groaned, kicking her feet over the side so she was sitting next to the old warrior directly. "I am not one of your Knights. If anything I can order _you_ to do such a thing."

"Good luck with that, your Highness." Was Phila's reply, before she settled herself down next to the young ruler.

The years hadn't been kind to the woman. Almost three decades of war rested on her shoulders. Lucina heard stories of Phila in the past, and how she was once a rather beautiful woman. But now she resembled a grandmother, even if she maintained the build of a knight.

"He got to you, didn't he?"

"He insulted my capacity in front of the whole assembly, and attacked both my closest friends and my only family left." Lucina replied, her demeanor becoming even more blackened as she recalled the events of last night.

Phila snorted. "Bah. Mansfield has always had a mouth too big for his britches. Besides, your retainer made quick work of him."

Lucina shook her head. "What Severa did was needlessly violent."

"I believe you just described Severa's entire personality." Phila countered. "There's a reason why she never passed the entrance exam for the Pegasus Knights."

"And yet Cynthia managed with flying colors." Lucina mused, thinking back to that day. It was a rather happy one for the sisters, especially for Cynthia. She had idolized their mother, and now she was one step closer to being on par with her.

"Hrm. But this is not about them, this is about you." Phila corrected, driving the conversation back on track.

"I'm fine."

Another snort from her mentor. "Both of your parents were terrible liars, Lucina. They passed that trait on."

"If only they passed on their ability to convince others."

"Self pity is not a garment that suits you, I suggest you do not don it." Phila sharpy spat out, surprising Lucina. Seeing the monolith lose her temper even slightly was unheard of. "Give them time, the Senate will turn. You _did_ propose to them something we all thought impossible."

"We don't have time, Phila. The ritual will be ready in four days."

"Then convince them in four days. Have your company, take them to see the Divine Mother."

She shook her head. "They are not all here. Nah, Brady, Noire, Yarne, Kjelle and Inigo stayed to guard Mount Prism." Lucina balked at the inquisition painted over Phila's face. "We do not know if Grima will attempt to interfere, I thought it best to leave the more defensive fighters there. But that means I have no men to spare."

"...Why do you have to go?" Phila questioned. She was concerned, for a number of reasons tumbling about in her head. Most of all being the young girl at her side. "If you stayed behind, I'm almost certain they would approve an expedition to be sent through this ritual."

"Because it's far wiser to send thirteen of us than a full brigade of soldiers." Lucina postulated. "We can blend in far easier, and not tamper too much with the flow of time. One might be able to correct it's course fully if we just manage "

"This does not explain why _you_ need to go." Phila asked, terse as a bow string.

Lucina sighed, lifting her hand to grasp at the tiara that rested on her head. The old band of gold was rather simple, with two flame breathing dragons facing up at the two tips. She'd based it off of the same crown worn by Marth, so many centuries ago. Her tiara, her outfit, her demeanor, her speech. All made to emulate a man long since dead. Two men, long since dead.

"It's my burden." Lucina answered. "I cannot send other people off on a duty I have been charged with."

"Your duty is to the Halidom, Princess." Phila pointed out

"Which is why I need to go, then return. So there remains a Halidom for me to protect." Lucina replied quickly, standing to her feet and looking out the window towards the blood red clouds. "What's the point in staying here, Phila? I cannot help Ylisse by remaining idle and acting as a figurehead."

Phila joined her, giving the young woman a stern smack to the back of the head. Lucina cried out in pain, but Phila seemed keen to ignore it. "Is that really all you see yourself as, child? A figurehead? Do you know how many people in this city are only alive because of your deeds? Your actions, your will?"

"Staying here won't save them." Lucina rested her hand on the Falchion on her hip. "The Awakening is impossible, without that I am merely just a swordswoman."

"Your being here gives them _hope_ , Lucina." Phila pursued, pointing out to the horizon they both now faced. "Out there, thousands of people. You're the reason they even can rise during mornings like this."

"They don't see me as a beacon of hope, Phila. They see me as the girl who may very well be the last Exalt." Lucina pointed out, shrugging the woman away and pacing over to the door. "They never see me, they see my ancestors. They see my Father, or the first Exalt, or Marth, or Anri. They see the sword on my hip, and the standards I'm expected to live up to. And I have no intention to fail them."

"Maybe you should see you've already achieved those standards, young one." Phila called from the rear. Lucina shook her head, opening the door and departing the room. She needed a hot bath, then a meal. Afterwards she needed to speak with Owain and Gerome about properly convincing everyone to go along with this scheme.

Phila stood there, sighing once more and scratching the back of her neck. "Just like her mother. Never good enough for herself."


	4. C-3: Deliberation

At midday, the Shepherds who had returned to Ylisstol all sat in the abandoned barracks. The decades old stone compound was growing into a more dire state of disrepair with each passing day. Beams were growing ancient, bending as they tried to support the walls. A layer of dust rested over everything, much to the annoyance of Laurent and his allergies. Windows were cracked, furniture was eaten up by mites, floorboards creaked. It was hard to believe this desolate shack had once housed the greatest heroes of the era.

It was a deplorable pile of bricks now, one that no longer had a true purpose. Often times it had been proposed to attempt to restore the building to its former glory, but the Halidom lacked the resources for such a vanity project. That same lack of resources also pressed the opposite course; tearing the barracks down and recycling what could be salvaged for other use. This was, of course, violently opposed by each of the new Shepherds every time it was suggested. Lucina especially.

The place was one of reverence to each of the children, walking through the hallowed halls with caution. Here was where their parents had once rested. Where they had become not only comrades and friends, but companions. Lovers and spouses, fathers and mothers. Ylisseans, Feroxi, Plegians and Valmese. Their predecessors had come from all corners of the globe, but all shared the goal their heirs inherited.

To protect those who needed protecting.

To save those who could not save themselves.

To be heroes.

It only seemed fitting that they met here, one last time. If only to give one final goodbye to their forefathers.

So there they were, sitting at a central table. Laurent wiped his nose idly with a handkerchief, trying to stop it from running. Morgan flipped through a rather large book, the title 'Tactics of the Gelben Ritter' emblazoned on the side. Cynthia clicked her heels together, humming a happy tune. Owain was at the side, proclaiming wildly to no one in particular as he swung his sword through the air. Severa sat back in her chair, arms over her chest and glaring idly.

Again, Laurent blew his nose loudly. Enough to prompt Morgan to casually slide further from his side. Cynthia giggled, tilting her head at the boy as his spectacles fell off his nose and onto the table. "You sound like one of the bards, Laurent! As if your nose was a trumpet!"

"Rue the day a man is able to play music while expelling bodily fluids…" Laurent pondered aloud with a shudder, wiping his nose once more before taking hold of his misplaced accessory. He removed a fresh cloth from under his robes, wiping the added dust from the table free from the glass. "I fear the only master of that skill was Nah's father."

That prompted another giggle from the pig tailed pegasus knight. That was an old memory she had long since forgotten, during Nah's first birthday. The muscle bound man had belched the entire song in one long, epic solo. Half the room was frozen in disgust, meanwhile Gregor and Stahl both cheered him on and asked for an encore. Henry had tried to emulate the performance to… middling effect.

"Oooo!" Cynthia exclaimed, bouncing up and down in her chair. "You think Nah knows how to do it! Maybe it got passed down!"

Severa rolled her eyes in her chair, groaning at the idea. "Unlike you, air for brains, Nah actually acts our age."

That got the Princess to real back, pouting in defiance at the swordwoman's critique. "Well I'm sorry I still have fun, ice queen!"

"Ladies..." Laurent started, wincing as Owain screamed something about his aching sword hand.

"I'm with Cincy." Morgan chipped in, hiding her grin behind the book. In truth she had stopped reading the thing entirely, expecting a show to begin before her eyes.

The twin tailed mercenary narrowed her eyes at the red head, even if she couldn't make out her expression. Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, lifting a hand to cut Cynthia off before she began on one of her own professions. "Does anyone know when her Highness will arrive?"

"Why do you always call her that?" Morgan questioned, aiming to keep the discussion on it's tangent. "Everyone else calls her Lucina, Laurent! Stop being such a stickler."

"Not all of us are as carefree as you, Grandmaster." Laurent answered. "Besides… between the six of us, _someone_ must keep an air of professionalism."

"Booooooooooooring." Morgan called out

"Laurent has a point." Severa intervened at last, narrowing her eyes at the youngest of the group as she retreated back behind her reading material. "Where is she? Lucy isn't the one to be late to a meeting."

"She probably just got wrapped up in some Exalt-y stuff." Cynthia explained, twirling one of her blue'd pigtails about her finger. "She's gotta get approval for this trip we're taking still!"

"The vote isn't until tomorrow night." Morgan answered curtly, growing gloomy at the remembrance of why they were all here. Cynthia eyed the girl cautiously, taking note as the grip around the leather of her book stiffened.

Lucina wanted them all to jump through a hole in time, like that would end well for anyone involved. Much as she was willing to back her friend in public, their private discussion on the matter had been far less united. It wasn't a smart idea by any means. Lucina was the head of the nation, Morgan was one of the military heads. Even one of them disappearing would doom Ylisse almost certainly from disorganization alone, let alone morale.

It didn't help that Lucina was the main reason any of them were still alive anyway. Even with the Awakening only working half way, the Falchion was still activated to a degree. They just needed to find the last stone…

"I cannot wait much longer!" Owain exclaimed, finally slipping out from the shadows and triumphantly puffing his chest out. "Think of the legends that will spawn from this! Owain Dark, traveller of time! Savior of the old and new! The mysterious-"

"Can I please just stab him?" Severa asked no one in particular, Owain recoiling away from the sudden threat before shirking back into the shadows and returning to his self contained performance. The blonde retainer sighed, rubbing one of her eyes. "This is ridiculous, why did she even call us here?"

"She told me she wanted us to delaber… delubah… delib…" Cynthia looked over to Laurent, confused. "What did she want us to do?"

"Deliberate, Princess. Discuss and debate." Laurent clarified, going through his satchel as he poured some parchment, a quill and a small vial of ink. "As usual I will transcribe the meeting."

Severa snorted, putting her feet up onto the table. "Remind me again why you do that? Does anyone read these things?"

"We're technically a militia unit, so the Generals do." Morgan answered randomly, closing her book and looking around with impatience. She had work to do today. Another division of troops was going to try and make a breakthrough north into Regina Ferox, hopefully give the two nations a lifeline to one another so they could send support. It was the most important operation in the War, and everyone needed to be there. Especially the Halidom's chief tactician and its Royalty.

"What's there to deliberate about anyway? Lucina's going, we're helping." Severa tossed out, completely missing the wince on Morgan's face.

Laurent's expression was stony and neutral, inhaling and exhaling audibly before he began himself. "...May I be blunt?" He started, his hand moving on it's own to write down the words he spoke.

The other three at the table turned to face the man as a chill started to emanate from him. Even Owain took pause to notice the gravity of the room seemingly swelling around the young mage, to the point where the only sound other than his speech was the movement of quill to paper. "I have very little faith in this plan working."

" _What?"_ Severa hissed out, clutching the side of the table in a death grip with both hands. Cynthia blanched all over again, instantly going back into the same stupor that she was trapped in during the General's tirade the night prior. Morgan silently stared at the man, blinking. Owain merely sheathed his blade, walking up to the table and standing at the detractor.

"Permit me to clarify before you debauch the furniture, Severa." Laurent requested, a request that the mercenary was happy to ignore as he continued to explain. "I have faith that Lady Naga's ritual will work. All mages know she possess powers beyond our comprehension. However…" He moved his hand down the sheet, leaving a small blemish during the motion before continuing the scrawl. "We do not know what will occur after we arrive. We do not know how we will be able to properly defy Grima's resurrection. We are not even sure where we shall appear on the globe."

"We're going in blind and with no safety net. Odds are this will be a one way trip." Morgan hummed along, eyes rolling back and forth between Cynthia and Severa's expressions. Her friend seemed to shrink into nothing, the idea of Laurent defying her sister not registering in her mind. Severa looked liable to lunge forwards and rip Laurent's throat out, a possibility the mage seemed very aware of as he went still and silent.

Silence took hold over the conference. It was all true, and they all knew it. This was an absolute path they were going to walk down, and it wasn't a choice they could take back. It all sunk in, then and there. This might be the last time they ever see their home again.

"So, what. You're not coming?" Severa asked bitterly, breaking the silence. Her glare focused on Laurent primarily, but Morgan was also in the line of fire now.

Laurent thought for a moment, setting his quill down and clasping his hands together atop the table. Then the young mage narrowed his own eyes at his interrogator, frowning. Emotional expression was rare from him, and he almost sounded angry as he spoke. "Do not take caution as a mark of disloyalty, Severa. Just because I do not leap at whatever Lucina says as you do, does not mean I will not go forth."

In similar fashion to the night prior, Severa chose to lash out at the insult, weapon at the ready as she stood up. As she rose, another voice spoke up. "I'm not going." Morgan informed, forcing Severa in place right before the royal retainer attempted to murder one of the Exalt's own advisers. Her blade had already parted half way out of it's sheath. Cynthia twisted around, aghast at what the tactician had said. "Listen to me." Morgan explained. "It's bad enough that Lucina's going and leaving the Halidom headless. Someone needs to stay behind and run things while you're all on this mission."

"Phila could do that!" Cynthia protested, not believing what she was hearing. Panic rose into her breast, trying to come up with an alternative. "O-or another commander! You aren't the only tactician we have!"

"Phila doesn't know tactics like I do." The Grandmaster countered. "She's a good soldier and a good General, but we need better than good. I'm the best tactician we have left."

The words sounded like a nightmare come to life for Cynthia. Next to Lucina, Morgan was the best friend she had. The two had been attached at the hip since their early years, before the fighting had escalated. Even fathoming the idea that they'd be separated sent a dark chill down her spine.

"But… what will we do without you?" Owain asked bluntly, standing off to the side. Usual performances seemed to fall away with the shock. "We've always been together. That's the whole point of the Shepherds."

Severa's ire was now focused wholly on the young girl, feelings betrayal being clearly exposed. Even Laurent looked uncomfortable with the idea, both his hands resting still on the table. Still, Morgan held firm, resting herself back. "Gerome's father taught him strategy and planning, he can handle it."

"Gerome can barely handle talking to someone for more than five minutes." Laurent parsed, reflecting on how the wyvern rider often used him as a middle man to speak with the others. The idea of him being the group's strategist was a caravan wreck in the making. "This is not about your abilities, Morgan. This is about leaving one of our friends behind."

Silence reigned at that point, with Morgan drumming her fingers on the table. The arguments they levied didn't seem to hold any effect. Her mind was set, everyone could see that. None of them would be able to sway her from this path. No one par Lucina could even attempt to force her into coming, but she was… absent.

Which brought up the question of the hour once more; just where was the Exalt?


	5. C-4: Hopeless Wanderer

The others could wait for their leader just a few hours longer.

It was rare that Lucina made public trips outside of the Castle's perimeter. Whenever she was in Ylisstol, and that itself was a rarity these days, she was often bogged down by the demands of her station. There was difficulty behind leading a nation, especially one in a perpetual state of war. Beyond the battlefield she still had to run the bureaucracy. Something she had found was almost as daunting as facing the Risen hordes, albeit in an entirely different manner.

There were times she would escape her responsibilities, however.

In the far wall of the castle lay a cleft in the stonework, large enough for a single person to slip through with relative ease. Her father had broken the hole open during a training exercise many years ago, but it had become her own secret portal to the outside world.

The young ruler wore a heavy brown shawl over her armor, with a hood and facewrap concealing most of her distinguishing features. To the unsuspecting eye she looked like just another lonely refugee, one of many that now flooded the sanctum.

Following her usual route, she was able to dodge the patrols and guards performing sentry above the more affluent districts of the city. Nobles, businessman, and leaders of the Clergy were all residents of this district. Here, she would stick out like a sore thumb.

But the guards she put here were among the less capable. Against protest, she'd placed the more veteran members of the Army on the city's perimeter. The idea that all within Ylisstol deserved all the protections their nation could provide them.

They was easy to duck past.

From there she circumvented the wall that separated the two sections, inserting herself into a guardhouse where she planned to meet her contact.

The shack was cobbled together from spare wood and beams. There were no windows, merely holes carved out to allow light to pour in freely. Hopping inside revealed a simple set up; a weapons rack, a few uniforms, some bottles of half-drunken ale resting on a table top. The troops that usually manned this post were off on patrol this time of day.

She walked over to a door in the rear, slowly pushing it open and looking inside.

The office behind it was occupied, one man sitting down and writing at a well kept desk. In contrast to the shoddy state of the rest of the post, this sanctum seemed rather homely. Maps and charts hung on the walls, along with a portrait of a family. A few potted plants sat at the windowsill, a cot snugly set in the corner.

The man himself was an older gentleman, hair and mustache far beyond greyed, though weak strands of periwinkle managed to survive. Plate armor encased him, though his gauntlets weren't present while he worked. A high cloth collar rose from the nape of his neck, with a short cape enshrouding her shoulders.

"Am I bothering you, Major?" Lucina asked, slipping herself inside and closing the door. The princess removed her hood, revealing herself fully to the man.

"For 'Marth' themself? I always have time for the Hero-King." The man replied dryly, wetting his quill and continuing his strokes. He didn't look up at her, focusing mostly on the work that lay before him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The same as always."

He chuckled at that, amused that a young girl would come to him for something she should easily be able to discover from her home. "Yes, of course. The crisis of the week."

Lucina sighed, pacing over and taking a seat in the chair in front of the man. "I'm sorry, Thomas. If I could get proper assistance to come-"

"Do not apologize for that which is not a fault of yours." The man answered, placing the quill down and looking up to smile at his audience. "These are not problems that would reach the Senate's radar. Frankly, having your assistance is more than I could have ever hoped for. You share your parents' compassion for their people."

Lucina blushed at the compliment, eying the man as he drew a cigar from a shelf within the desk. "Do you mind?" He asked, to which the Princess shook her head. She was a guest in his station, after all. He need not ask if he wished to smoke. Thomas flipped a book open, a small flame on the cover. At a moment, one of his fingers became alight, and he lit the cigar unceremoniously before extinguishing the flame.

"So, what is the 'crisis of the week' as you aptly put it?" Lucina asked, sitting prim and proper with her hands resting regally on her lap.

"Ration shortages." Thomas answered, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Refugees are coming to me, saying that the food is not reaching their neighborhoods."

"That… shouldn't be happening. We've made sure to allocate appropriate food stocks to each district." The Exalt explained obstinately. "Are your convoys being ambushed?" Lucina questioned. Normally she would be aghast at such a thing, but thievery was desperation's vile bedfellow. People tended to do horrible things when faced with adversity.

The officer shook his head. "No. None of my men have reported an attack. Each time the rations are taken to the public kitchens without incident."

"Then I'm rather confused." Her brow furrowed, the situation not adding up.

"As am I." Another puff. "Which is why I'm humbly asking you to do what you usually do. Wander about the district." He points to the map behind him, lines drawn along roadways to mark various routes and patrol paths. Each line was drawn in different colors, contrasting one from the other. "The latest supply run just left, a squadron of my battalion is guarding it. I trust you can solve this matter discreetly?"

"Of course." Lucina promised, standing to her feet.

"Do you need a weapon?" Thomas asked, standing to his feet and removing his sword from it's sheath. Lucina lifted a hand and shook her head, pulling away a layer of the shawl to reveal the Falchon hidden and sheathed under a wrap. The older man frowned at this reveal, letting his longsword hang limply at his side.

"Milady, I cannot advise walking around with an item that so blatantly reveals your identity." He advised, then offering the pommel of his weapon to her.

"Most would advise me not to walk around the slums at all." Lucina countered, making no motions to take the offered armament.

"Yet here we are, of your own accord." Thomas continued to hold the blade up, gesturing with it towards the sheathed royal artifact. "Nevertheless, I must request you leave the blade with me."

"No." The royal answered.

"..." The man drummed the fingers of his free hand against the left-hand side of his hip, jaw locking in place before pointing towards the door. "Then I ask you dismiss yourself to the palace."

This was… new to Lucina. One of her soldiers bluntly acting obstinate before her. Before Mansfield, every officer did what she said when she said it. Now it seemed like insubordination was spreading like a wildfire.

"And may I ask why?" The Princess prodded, suppressing the panic smoldering in her breast.

Thomas sat himself down, grabbing the quill he had previously set aside and returning to his log-work. "Tell me how the people would react if they saw their royal, in costume, skulking about the slums." Lucina opened her mouth to answer the question, but the dark knight decided to do so for himself.

"Some may think she's attempting to walk amongst her people, which is the closest to the truth." He starts, the scraping of the quill as he writes accenting and punctuating every word. "Others may think she's lost, and may attempt… untoward things."

"I can defend myself." Lucina protested through grit teeth, heat coming to her face. The very idea that the warrior princess couldn't handle herself in combat was an insult. She had pride in her ability with a blade, if nothing else.

"Attempt, not commit." Thomas pointed out. "Or they may think the worse. That she's going to flee and abandon her people." Again Lucina opened her mouth to protest, but the old man kept on his speech. "Yes, yes. You would never do such a thing, I am aware. But these refugees are afraid and paranoid. They will jump to hairbrained conclusions if given even the smallest prod."

The blue haired royal stood there, pondering the man's words. He wasn't wrong, everything he said was accurate. Walking about with the Falchon was a give-away of her identity. But she never parted with the sword, it was her responsibility to keep Naga's fang safe. For all she knew, she was the only person left in the world who could even wield it.

Not to mention the obvious, it was all she had left of her father.

Cynthia inherited their Mother's Pegasus, and took her place flying through the air. Lucina inherited their father's sword, and took his place leading the charge. She kept the blade with her at all times. In battle, on patrols, during sentries, in meetings. Even when eating meals, resting or sleeping, Falchon was never far from its master.

The sword was a part of her at this point leaving it behind would be like giving up a piece of herself.

"I'm willing to take the risk." She affirmed, killing the debate.

Thomas sighed, realizing how futile the effort was. He also knew she'd go hunting for the thieves now, no matter if he gave her the rest of the information or not. Sometimes he regretted helping the Exalt on her nightly haunts. But he knew if he didn't, she'd find someone who would.

And unlike someone else, he was smart enough to send reports to his sister. She advised him best how to keep the blue blooded vigilante alive.

"As stubborn as your father. And no, that isn't a compliment." Thomas growled out. He slipped his hand into his desk once more and removed a scroll, before offering it to Lucina. "Their path is marked on that chart. I had them take a special route this time."

Lucina tentatively took the scroll, opening it up to check inside. It was an extended route, one that almost doubled the time it'd take to reach it's destination. Looping across the main roads and avoiding any side paths. "Why not inform them of the situation."

"In the case that my men are also my perpetrators." He answered gruffly, chuckling darkly at the shock that appeared on his companion's face. "Never deny any possibility, Lucina. Seeing the best in people can blind you from their worst."

Lucina sighed, slipping the parchment under her cloak and turning about, swiftly exiting the room and the guard post. Time to get to work.

* * *

One could barely tell it was noon.

The sun barely managed to shine through the thick clouds. Tall buildings towered over every street in the slums. Each of the windows were boarded up, with the streets filled with a handful of people walking through them. Guard patrols made their way through swiftly, paying no mind to the beggars and impoverished pleading for spare silver.

Once or twice a man or woman would lunge forth, clinging to a spearman's arm as they implored them for some kind of sustenance. Usually this resulted in them being thrown off, then left to the wayside as the squad kept walking.

Dark moods fitted the darkness of this part of the city. Ylisstol had grown used to being shrouded in such plague, enough that light itself was beginning to become a treasured commodity. People had become desperate enough to use candlesticks in place of currency, an object that had became a surplus thanks to her order to keep the city alight. They were far more common tham copper, silver and gold coins were.

Lucina blended in with the crowd well. _Too_ well, in fact. Soldiers would often shoo her away at the mere sight of her ragged appearance, not bothering to take a glance at the face that was hidden behind all the wrapping. One even shoved her as she wandered a tad too close to their formation, giving her a glare of contempt before marching along.

A malicious indifference to her, and to the rest of her fellow man.

It made her sick.

What she would give to be able to simply rip her shawl off and berate all of these so called protectors. To put the fear of the Goddess into them, and to remind them all why they did these duties. To present herself as the Exalt and demand they fall in line, or face consequences.

A flare of tyranny, one that died just as soon as it came. Indifference did not warrant suffering. Nothing does. Her existence was dedicated to end all their pain, one action at a time.

She thought back to the old man who had sent her on this mission. Lucina had discovered Thomas long ago, one of the few officers who was willing to walk amongst the people and help directly. Major Thomas had a good soul, and was always trying to find small ways to inoculate the city's disease. One night she followed him to that same guard house, and struck up a discussion with him. He was the only person in the city who knew she had these lone walks.

Guilt filled her heart with how she'd dismissed his advice. Nothing he'd told her was wrong, nor was his suggestion a poor one. Though they knew little of one another, she felt as though she could leave Falchon in his care without worry. He just radiated the old spirit of Ylisse, warm and trusted. The man was owed, at the very least, an apology. One Lucina intended to deliver once she had assisted him with this issue.

She arrived at the ration center before the convoy was predicted to come. A long line had already started up, people waiting for their morning bread and water. A few muttered about rumors that carrots and some slabs of pork might also be in the diet, a rare treat.

She diverged from the group and into a dark alley, traversing over a few derelict crates and barrels. After hopping over a splintering fence, Lucina found herself at the building's rear entrance. From there she merely hid herself amongst the refuse and waited.

Some time later, the telltale sound of horse-drawn carts roused Lucina up from her stupor. She sunk deeper against the wall, pulling her hood down further and blending into the environment. Here Lucina wasn't the Exalt, she wasn't the leader of a nation and the head of a bloodline. No, she was merely a beggar sitting on a wall.

The cart parked itself next to her, and the soldiers dismounted. None of them even questioned her being there, happy to let her sit idle while they offloaded their goods. One by one the armor clad men would come in and out of the building. Dropping off crates filled with food, waterskins, and those fabled rounds of pork.

Lucina's smile was hidden as she watched on. How Owain had managed to get these people better provisions was beyond her, but she was grateful for her cousin's persuasion nonetheless.

As the last of the supplies were brought inside, one of the troops looked down at her. He seemed rather unamused at the sight of a street rat being so close to the food, especially with the ongoing mishap in supplies. Thieves were something to always be wary of.

He came forth, scanning over Lucina. The Exalt merely kept her head bowed down, remaining mostly still. Only the air leaving her breast was any signal that she was alive.

Then something new entered Lucina's vision. A bar of hardtack, gripped in a gloved hand, held right in front of her nose.

She looked up to see the soldier hold the same disinterested look, but continuing to hold the foodstuff in front of her. Lucina's stomach grumbled ominously, a reminder of how she had once again skipped a meal in favor of her missions. Hardtack was a common part of her diet, most of her time outside of the city the food she ate was either dried goods or freshly hunted game.

So Lucina took the offered food, lowering the cloth around her mouth and biting a chunk from the dried biscuit. The soldier grunted ominously, then moved back over to the cart.

Soon after the rest of his compatriots wandered out, and the squadron left in the same direction they had came. No ambush, no raid, no ill action. The amount of food that was delivered to the kitchen matched the standard shipment size, Lucina had been counting the crates in her head. These soldiers were innocent, much to her relief.

That left another possibility, however.

Finishing off her impromptu meal, Lucina brought her wrappings back over her face and went to the door. Due to some stroke of luck, no one had come to relock it yet. Not to look a gift pegasus in the mouth, she made her way inside.

She followed the sound of voices bouncing up and down the hallways, a group of people laughing and joking amongst themselves. The dimly lit hallways linked together, forming a small maze as she lead herself through the corridors.

Lucina passed the main hall, looking over her corner to see the kitchen's operators hand off parcels of food to each person. Each one looked to hold a loaf of bread, a hunk of ham, a refill of their waterskin and a few carrots. Paltry, barely enough to last a few days. Yet this was all they could have for a week, one bag a person. The rest they would have to grow, haggle for or procure all on their own.

She shook her head and continued on.

Her suspicions would be either confirmed or denied once she found the building's store room. Lucina deducted they would more than likely keep the food in the building's cellar. The city was safe from most water risks, and people often used the underground spaces as storage along with bedrooms.

After many twists and turns, she found what she had been searching for; the stairs. One foot after another, the boards creaking with each step, she made her way down deeper into the foundation. The dead air wafted around her, but the smell was a giveaway. Food, lots of food.

As she reached the bottom of the steps, Lucina drew a match from under her cowl and struck it. From there she lifted the wick upwards, holding it to what she believed to be a torch. The larger stick came alight, and the world became silent as the room's contents were revealed.

Food. Stacks and stacks of food, far more than what should reasonably be hidden in reserve. Bread, dried meats and fruits, salts, nuts and oils. Weeks of surplus kept from those who needed it.

She'd found her thieves. Not the soldiers, not fibbing refugees, not city-born brigands. But the kitchen itself.

"Well, what have we here?"

The Exalt whipped around to see a man dressed in an apron behind her, an axe held at his side. He was rounded, balding and portly. Clearly well fed, far better fed than a kitchen worker had any right to be. "A ruffian, come to take my goods?"

"Monster." Lucina spat, backing away as she took up a defensive stance. "These goods are not yours. They belong to these people!"

"I do believe goods belong to those they're possessed by." The man answered, inching closer as he brought his axe to the ready.

"You stole this food!" Lucina exclaimed, steadying herself and bringing her fists up. Anger and disgust were at the forefront of her mind, only tempered by the disbelief of what she had found. "Our people starve in the streets and you stock away their salvation like a pack rat!?"

The portly man rolled his eyes. "Spare me the wounded act and be _**silent!"**_ He commanded, lunging forward and hacking at Lucina's skull.

The royal jumped back, bumping into one of the hidden barrels. Her assailant continued on, swiping madly at her as she leaped to the side. Wood splintered as his strike went wide, crashing into one of the containers and digging itself deep into the grain.

As the fat man struggled to remove the blade from its niche, Lucina took advantage, lunging forward and striking at the side of the man's head. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him down and slamming him to the ground. As he laid there, stunned, Lucina effortlessly ripped the axe from the wood and planted her foot against his chest.

He flailed about, trying to wriggle himself free, but all Lucina had to do was add pressure with her boot. He squeaked in pain, wheezing as the air in his lungs was forced out against his will. All the while Lucina leaned forwards, glaring down at the man.

"You're a murderer." She judged. "Stealing food from those who have none. This is basically murder, and you know it."

The man weakly slapped at her boot, but she felt nothing from the strike. Lucina just added even more pressure, the worker's breath becoming more labored as his lungs were squished.

"Why?" Lucina asked. "Why would you do this? Why would you condemn all these people!?"

"F-family…" The man managed out weakly.

"What?" Lucina questioned again, lifting her boot enough to let the man suck in some hair.

"We're… just… trying to feed our families." The man weakly managed out, welcoming the fresh air pouring into his lungs. "The ration packs they give us are so small. We just wanted to keep our families healthy." He explained desperately, not even trying to free himself at this point.

"You've seen the packages we have to give. A loaf of bread, some water? Do you think we can keep our children healthy with that?" Lucina stared at the man, trying to find something to reveal that he was lying. But there was… nothing. The panic in his voice, the force behind his words. His resolve was there, a resolve someone could only hold when protecting something near to them. She felt it each time Cynthia or her friends were in danger, or whenever she saw an innocent being assaulted.

"I know this is wrong. I know I'm a monster." He admitted weakly, arms splayed at his sides as he spoke. "But what choice do I have? I just want them to be safe! What else am I supposed to do, let my sons shrivel into nothing!?" He yelled out.

Above them, new voices could be heard. Panicked ones, followed by footsteps against the floorboards. More people would be coming soon, Lucina needed to act quickly.

She looked at the axe in her hand. It wasn't even a real weapon, just a simple hatchet to lop off branches and cut planks. He'd probably grabbed it on his way here.

She sighed. The man was a criminal, regardless of intentions or desires. This needed to stop, and this food needed to be handed out.

Lucina lifted the boot off of the man and threw the axe to the side. The man stared up at her, eyes blinking in disbelief as she released him. "Y-you aren't going to kill me?"

"And what would killing you solve? I came to find out about the food, I did." She answered curtly, before moving off to the steps.

As she reached the top of the flight, the man's voice chased up after her. One final question ringing her ears as the other steps came closer and closer.

"Who _are_ you?"

She looked over her shoulder to see the man standing at the bottom of the steps, clutching his chest where she had been pinning him to the ground earlier. His breath was labored still, beads of sweat fell down his face. But he was unarmed now, not having gone for the weapon again.

Lucina smiled inside herself, opting to take a page from her cousin just this once.

"You may call me Marth. A name you'd best remember incase you do this again."

And with that, she spirited herself away.

* * *

"You don't want me to arrest them?" Thomas asked when Lucina returned, the girl handing the map back to her liaison now that she was done with her explanation of her discoveries.

A shake of the head to confirm the question. "They're victims of desperation."

"They stole weeks worth of food, milady." Thomas pointed out.

"And they'll repay that crime by working to make this district better. I'll make sure of it." Lucina promised. "But consider this an official pardon from the ruler of the Halidom herself."

"How merciful." The knight commented neutrally, not betraying if he agreed or disagreed with the course of action. Still, he nodded in agreement. "Regardless, this is another problem fixed. Thank you, your Highness."

"I did nothing." Lucina answered. "Merely assisting the citizens of Ylisse as one of my station should."

"Most Exalts don't wander about in shawls, hunting down crooks while using fake names." He pointed out once more, snorting at the idea as it popped into his head. "Sounds like something out of a story book. One I'd read to my grandchildren if I ever got a day off of this blasted job."

"I could have you relieved for a week or so." Lucina offered.

Thomas shook his head. "We all have to serve the duties of our station, milady. Some of us just aren't as unorthodox as you are."

Lucina bowed respectfully, before standing upright. "...I'm sorry about before, Thomas." The man quirked an eyebrow, confused at the sudden apology. "When you offered your weapon, you did so solely for my protection. I brushed you off and acted rudely, and I apologize. You deserve better than to be pushed to the wayside."

The Major threw his head back and laughed, smiling from ear to ear. Lucina looked on, not sure to make of this sudden happiness. When he finally sat himself back upright, Lucina stood with a tinge of red on her cheeks, trying her best not to pout like a small child.

As his laughter subsided, Thomas wiped a small tear from his eye. He adjusted his chair and looked up at the annoyed leader of his nation, smugly grinning as if he'd just won a fortune at the gambling tables. "You never cease to amuse, Lucina."

The Exalt scoffed, but she shared a loaded grin with the man. It was funny, in an odd sense.

Besides, the world needed more laughter.


	6. P-1: A Quiet Place

"I've never seen so much color in my life."

Nah slowly walked through the green flowered fields, her hands carefully gliding above the multi-colored flowers that silently swayed at her side. A calm breeze was pressing through the air, softly blowing against her long twin braids that hung behind her back. The manakete child's nose was filled with scents she'd never experienced before; healthy plants and the sweetness of pollinated buds.

At first she resented being left behind here on Mount Prism, but she'd begun to truly appreciate just how amazing this final bastion of serenity felt. Was this how the rest of Ylisse looked before Grima's rebirth? So colorful and vibrant. A stark contrast to the browns and grays that now littered it's fields.

There was more to it than that. The spiritual energy that surrounded this place was immense. A strong humming filled her ears constantly, reminding her of just how important of a place this was beyond its natural beauty. Nah could sense the trace of so many Manaketes around her, long since passed on. Divine dragons ever present even after death.

Maybe, just maybe, her Mother was watching over her now.

"Quite the field of flowers." Inigo hummed in agreement as he kept his pace behind her. The mercenary idly yawned as both his hands remained squarely held behind his back. He couldn't deny the pure serenity of the place, even if he did find the mountain itself rather droll.

"There's flowers I've only heard of here!" The child manakete exclaimed, falling down to her knees and moving to pluck a particular flower that had caught her eye. The pedals were a vibrant, almost electric green. Each one curled upwards like fingers grasping at the sky.

"Ohmygods, ohmygods." Nah repeated, hopping up and spinning around to show off her discovery with her semi-willing escort. "Do you know what this is!?" She exclaimed as she shoved the flower at Inigo, hopping up and down on her toes.

Inigo leaned forwards to inspect the botany in her grasp, trying to catch a glimpse as it bounded up and down with its owner. He smiled as the name came to his mind. "Divine Tulips. Usually found around holy sites in Ylisse, right?"

"Yes! Yes, exactly!" Nah confirmed with joy, giddily twirling in place before going back to pick more of the flowers in question. Plucking them up, one by one, until a small bouquet of flowers begun to form in her grasp.

"Well, at least one of us is enjoying their time here." Inigo commented as he looked about the head of the mountain. In truth, he found the place to be rather droll. The closest settlement rested at the bottom of the mountain, which meant the Shepherds were usually on their own while guarding the place. Two days up here had already started to give him cabin fever, and while he enjoyed the company of his friends, they could often times be rather… crass.

Especially his female companions. How he surrounded himself with such violent women, he never knew.

Alas, he could always make a trip down the path and 'procure some goods' as he liked to call it. It was the best way to pass the time up here.

"Inigo?" A voice called to him as he thought about how he could slip away from his current ball and chain without drawing much attention. Nah was the youngest of the group, she would be rather easy to convince if he could come up with a proper-

"INIGO!" Nah exclaims, jumping up so their faces were within millimeters of one another. The boy stumbled back, nearly losing his balance before steadying himself. All the while Nah kept watch on him with little approval. "Stop thunder-hoofing around. Help me find some blue flowers!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her rather random request, looking to see the progress on her own collection. She'd branched out from greens and started plucking almost any color she could find, a cavalcade of prismatic pigment shining in her grasp. "I thought you disliked blue?"

"It's not for me, dunderhead." Nah explained, moving back up next to her friend. "It's for Lucina when she gets back!" She states brightly, her smile filling out more and more of her expression. "She's been on edge so much, lately! Think how nice it'd be if we surprised her with a present!"

Inigo balked at the idea of presenting Lucina flowers. There were a multitude of ways it could go, and most of the paths that played out in his head ended with some form of head trauma. She would almost certainly take it as him hitting on her.

Which he wouldn't mind doing if they were speaking about any other lady. He always grew extremely shy around the woman.

Still, the thought was nice. Giving his friend a gift was something he could get behind… after he came back from his short journey. "Maybe when I return." He deflected with an apologetic smile.

Nah's expression flipped like a switch, her smile flipping about and turning into a disapproving frown. "Where are you going _now?_ Lucina told us to guard Lady Naga."

"Just to patrol the base of the mountain." He answered quickly, walking past the girl to avoid further discussion. Unfortunately for him she follows, walking to his side and moving to keep pace.

Nah narrowed her eyes. "Where exactly at the base of the mountain?"

Inigo laughed, going to ruffle Nah's hair with his free hand. Needless to say she squirmed under the gesture, not enjoying being treated like a small child. "Oh, around. Need to make sure the Risen haven't approached yet."

"Gerome could do that twice as quickly with Minerva." Nah countered, whacking the boy's limb away with an audible smack. Inigo rubbed the assaulted hand, wincing at the surprising amount of force she'd put behind the hit.

"Well…" He started off once more as the reached the path that winded downwards, a thick cloud of mist blocking any vision to the valley below. It was unnatural how bright and lively it was at the peak, with the fog segregating it away from the world below. "I was going to also check the town. Make sure the citizens were alright, may-"

"You're going to flirt with more girls." Nah finished for him, jumping in front of the path and blocking Inigo's exit from the conversation.

Inigo laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to keep up his usual carefree smile. And he was so close to getting away, too. When he came back he almost certainly was going to get an earful from Gerome and Brady. "That's rather crass, don't you think?" He replied defensively. "I'm simply a man who appreciates beauty! And frankly, I'd settle for a nice chat over a cup of tea."

"I hear you normally settle for being punched in the face." Nah answered bluntly, shattering Inigo's facade.

The poor boy fell onto his proverbial back-foot, trying to deflect the accusation in the worst way possible. "Once! That happened ONE time! ...Er, in the recent past." He rattled off, taking a split second to think before an upset pout came to be. "Say, how do you know about that, anyway?"

"Word of the shameless spreads quickly. Everyone in town knows you're an indiscriminate flirt." Nah replies with the same dry tone, as if _she_ was the elder having to lecture a child on how to behave.

Inigo's hands shot up to cover his heart in faux injury. "I'll have you know, I'm very discriminating! ...I only approach ladies who seem likely to say yes." He clarified, only half-joking.

"What about the woman who dislocated your shoulder? Did she look promising?" Nah pressed once more, not giving him an inch.

The mercenary winced at the memory. In truth his recent string of bad luck with the lovely ladies of the realm was starting to take its toll on his morale. A man can only take so much rejection before it started to weigh heavily on him. "You're dredging up a lot of painful memories here, Nah…"

Nah sighed, dejectedly holding her bundle of flowers close to her chest. "Did it never occur to you that women might find what you're doing insulting?" She continued to explain, though she knew how little of an effect it was going to have on his endeavors. "It's little wonder some get violent when they learn they're just one among hundreds."

"I resent that!" Inigo retorted, proudly puffing his chest out as he resumed his usual grin. "Every lady is one in a million to me! And they all seemed perfectly happy while we were on the date."

Nah just palmed her face, groaning at the display. "That. Isn't. The point!" She emphasized.

That was when Inigo decided to make his move. With more stealth than Nah thought possible from the failed casanova, the boy popped behind her and creeped away without a sound. It was only until he was already at the edge of the mist before he called back up to her. "I'm sorry, Nah, but I can debate the fine arts of love with you no longer. The day is young, and there are many ladies to meet. Ta-ta!"

Nah spun around to see the last of the boy's back disappear behind the wall of fog. The manakete stomped her foot, bringing both of her hands from her mouth and calling down the mountain side with as much force as she could bring. " **I'm not done lecturing you yet! Inigo! Get back here this instant!"**

But there was no reply, the boy was gone. Nah groaned in frustration, throwing her hands above her head as she glared down the road. The thought crossed her mind to pull out her dragon stone and force the boy back upwards. In fact, the idea seemed so pleasing she found her free hand clutching around the green stone rather tightly.

She relented, however, turning around and stomping off towards the others in a huff. Much as she'd enjoy putting the fear of the gods into the boy… there were other ways to get her point across.

* * *

If there was a single word Gerome would use to describe Kjelle, it would be obsessed.

Obsessed with strength. Obsessed with winning. Obsessed with battle. She cared far more than he did about winning a contest of arms. Hell, she was more focused on the whole idea of being a warrior than Lucina was. The brown haired knight was as vain as vain could be.

As he watched her train at the front of a cavern, he couldn't help but wonder why she was even here. Out of all the Shepherds, she seemed to be the one who held everyone in such low regard. The only person she ever seemed to show any form of respect _was_ Lucina. All of the men, she would regularly chastise and belittle. The other women she seemed to regularly attempt to keep under her heel. It seemed like a grand exercise in patience for her to even remain here.

Not that he was any better. Every person in this camp annoyed him to no end. Except one girl in particular.

Still, watching her swing her lance was something to pass the time. Lucina had left him in charge of this detachment, why on earth she'd done that was beyond him. If battle did come, he needed to know the abilities of those he was now forced to lead. As much as they did aggravate him… he still couldn't imagine what he'd do if he lost any of them.

He kept a mental tally of what each soldier here was capable of.

He and Nah were the only airborne elements. With her dragon form and Minerva at the ready, there was little to worry about if an aerial threat came. Both were capable of unleashing hot blasts of flame to keep the Risen at bay, and could provide ample support to their comrades on the ground.

Kjelle was their main frontline combatant. Easily the most heavily armored of the group, along with the strongest. He'd seen the woman throw risen across entire rivers, tear through groups like a whirlwind of destruction with her lance.

Inigo was, as much as he hated to admit it, an almost peerless swordsman. The dancer's son had been taught very well by his father before he'd passed on, it was rare that he ever seemed to need any kind of assistance.

Yarne was a good scout, but horrible in a scrape. Not due to lack of ability, but conviction. The taugel ran away at the very thought of a fight, only breaking out the fangs if his back was literally pressed against a wall.

Noire was their second mage. Unlike Laurent, she was rather capable with dark magic tomes. The issue was that they had no more tomes for her to use, par the Flux she had in her possession. Even then the pages were running dry, he had to find some kind of alternative for her.

Brady was their only healer. A damn fine one at that, the way he seemed to just _appear_ whenever anyone was injured seemed almost unnatural. Still, that ability had saved all of them at least once. Gerome included, he'd be lying if he didn't feel happy that the man was around.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of cracking wood. Gerome peered around to see that Kjelle had lived up to her reputation, properly smashing one of the target dummies she had brought along into several pieces.

He couldn't help but frown. Replacing those things wasn't easy up here, and he doubted the town below had ample supplies to spare.

"...Good. I think that's enough lance practice for today." Kjelle told herself, thrusting her spearhead into the ground in success. "It will be difficult, but I shall master every weapon in our arsenal. Only then will I be the best and most powerful fighter on the battlefield!"

The thought of Kjelle with an axe was a terrifying one, to say the least. Nevertheless the wyvern rider made his approach to her rear, bringing a fist to his mouth and coughing into it. "Ahem."

Kjelle whipped around, surprise never being shown as she leveled a glare towards the boy. "Are you spying on my practice sessions!?" She accused in a huff, marching closer and cracking her knuckles. "You little-!"

Gerome merely lifted a hand, his expression easily hidden behind the mask he wore. "I just happened to notice you as I was passing by. That's all." He lied easily. No need to admit that she was right on the money about what he was doing.

"Then keep passing by until I can't see you anymore!" Kjelle demanded, jabbing a finger off towards the distance. Gerome sighed internally, unsurprised that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the hot headed woman.

"All right." He accepted, resigning himself to go check in Minerva. It was almost her meal-time anyway.

"Ta-ta, then." Kjelle finished, turning around and grabbing the shaft of her lance. With one tug, the weapon was removed easily from the earth.

Still, Gerome wanted to say what was on his mind before he departed. He remained still, holding both hands behind his back before continuing. "...Oh, there's just one thing I wanted to say."

"What is it?" Kjelle asked, as if humoring the village fool.

"When thrusting with the lance, you should push with your leg and stomach muscles. You used only your arms just now. Such technique will betray you in battle." He laid out plainly in his standard monotone. No hint of sarcasm, sass or annoyance.

But as he expected, Kjelle read what wasn't there. As she turned around, her scowl was renewed. Actually it intensified, as if he'd spat on her mother's gravestone. "L-look, I was... That is to say... I was just about to fix that! ...And you were spying on me, weren't you?!"

"I'll leave you to it, then." Gerome finished, trotting along and leaving the woman to her devices. Soon he could once again hear the sound of her grunts and the crash of wood, her training renewed.

Kjelle was vain, but at least she was predictable. Quite easy to manipulate into doing things. He almost felt bad, but it was for her own good. Besides, knocking her down a peg felt… oddly vindicating. No wonder Severa indulged in the practice so often.

That was when a new voice pierced his ear. He turned to see none other than Nah darting across to try and meet him, waving her arms above her head as she came closer.

What in the world could _she_ want?

* * *

Noire stirred aimlessly in the makeshift medical tent that they had set up at the top of the hill.

She'd taken a beating in the last fight they had before arriving at the mountain. One of the Risen had gotten too close for her to defend herself properly. Morgan had appeared at the last moment, spearing the risen with her own lance.

Unlike the others, she didn't have a sword or some kind of melee weapon. And her magic was starting to run low on pages, with nowhere to resupply…

The half-Plegian sighed. What would her mother do in a situation like this?

Well, she knew the answer to that. Knowing Tharja, she would have brought a library worth of combat tomes along with her on this trip. Failing that she could have turned to using her own hexes in combat. But Noire couldn't do either. She wasn't a magical prodigy, nor was she with a well supplied group. She could borrow a few tomes from Laurent or Morgan, but both had returned to Ylisstol before she could even ask.

So now here she was, sitting on her own in a tent, feeling useless as ever.

When the sound of footsteps came closer and closer.

Noire curled up on the cot, pulling the blanket over her head quickly and hiding away in shame. The last thing she needed was her friends seeing her like this. Why was it always _her_ messing up and getting sent to a healer? Why couldn't she handle herself like everyone else? At this rate, why would they even keep her around?

Those thoughts came to an end as the footsteps stopped, and the sheet was pulled up and off of her. She squeaked in panic, spinning around to see…

"Huh? ...Oh, it's you?" Brady let go of the sheet, leaning down against his healing staff as if it was a walking cane.

"Brady!" Noire exclaimed, sitting up sharply for the man.

"What're ya doin' here? I thought I healed up that gash there." Brady asked, pointing to Noire's right hip where the blade had struck her.

"O-oh…" Noire curled up again, nervously playing with a strand of her short brown hair. "I f-felt a bit light headed. So I thought I sh-"

"Have ya slept at all?" Brady asked first, cutting her explanation off. "B'cuz I've been seein' ya wander around pretty late."

Noire shrunk even further in on herself, her face burning with embarrassment. She was hoping that no one had seen her new practice sessions. Occasionally she would sneak a sword out from their convoy and take it over to a far corner of the mountain, swinging at a tree as she tried to mimic the fighters of their group. More often than not she found herself trying to mimic her father's old fighting style, from what little she could remember.

Brady groaned, then pointed to the cot once more. "Lay down, get some shut-eye."

"B-but-"

"No buts. Doc's orders, ya hear?" Brady affirmed once more, hitting the ground once with his staff to reinforce his point. Noire flinched at the sound, but obliged, laying back down onto the cot and pulling the sheet back over herself.

Meanwhile Brady merely walked over to the adjacent cot and sat down, resting his staff across his lap and scratching the side of his cheek. Noire rolled over to face the man, eyes nervously darting around as she spoke. "Brady? Do you think I'm a burden?"

"Wha?" Brady asked, looking over to the girl as if she'd said something in a different language. "The heck you mean, bein' a burden?"

"It's just…" Noire mumbled something to herself, before speaking audibly once more. "I feel like the others do more than me. Without my magic, I'm… useless, aren't I?"

"Oh fer…" Brady groaned, slouching forwards and shaking his head. "You ain't useless, girl! You're the only one of us who can even use dark magic." Noire was going to start up again, but Brady kept going before she kept up the narrative. "Listen, no one here thinks yer a burden. We're all good at somethin', right? Gerome's got that flyin' monster-a his, Nah can turn into a flyin' monster, the others are real good at normal fightin'."

"So they won't leave me here…?" Noire asked hopefully. "When Naga does the ritual, Lucina's gonna bring me along, right?"

"Noire, there ain't a single person in this camp who'd leave ya behind." Brady affirmed. "Not even Gerome or Kjelle, not Lucina, and _definitely_ not me. Ya dig?"

"Y-yeah. I… yeah." Noire answered softly, nuzzling herself deeper into the sheets. "Thanks Brady."

"Don't thank me fer sayin' the obvious. Just get some rest, ya hear?" He demanded. The girl complied, and closed her eyes.

Brady sat there for a few minutes, watching. Leaving once he knew she'd fallen asleep for sure and making his way out of the tent. He looked to his left and right, scanning before calling out to nowhere in particular. "You can come out now, fuzzball."

A pair of long, furry ears popped out from a nearby bush with that proclamation. Followed by the rest of Yarne as the taugel made his way over to the Priest. Brady rolled his eyes, gesturing to the tent. "She's fine, ya lug. I told ya she recovered."

"Better being safe than sorry, right?" Yarne answered. "You're the healer, I just wanted to be sure."

Brady rolled his eyes and jabbed his finger forward into Yarne's bare chest, frowning at the rabbit. "Listen here, ya hoppin' coward. I might be the company healer, but if ya really wanna check on yer girl, then talk to'er yerself."

Yarne nodded at that point, head bobbing up and down… right as the last part of Brady's sentence registered in his mind. "W-wait, _**my**_ girl!?" He exclaimed.

"Yeah, yer girl." The Priest reaffirmed, his eyes not moving an inch as they bored into the target of his annoyance.

"We- I- She-" Yarne stammered out, backing away and waving his hands in denial. "We aren't a thing! She isn't my girl! I'm not her guy!"

"Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts." Brady drolled sarcastically, jerking his thumb over her shoulder and back towards the tent. "If you wanna keep an eye on'er, go ahead. I'm goin' back to bed."

Brady left in a huff with that, leaving a very confused Yarne standing outside the medical tent. His girl. _His_ girl. The idea of Noire being his girl… why in the world did that terrify him as much as it did. It was like if someone dared him to dive into an ocean of risen. Being in a relationship sounded like a train wreck waiting to happen. It's how it ended for his parents, and knowing his luck he'd muck up his life worse than his father did.

Still, after that, he found himself sitting on a cot next to Noire. He wasn't admitting anything. The mage was his friend, they were all his friends. He'd known each and every single one of the Shepherds since they were all children. Around them he felt… safe, happy even. As happy as he could in a world like this.

And soon, after the ritual, he was pretty sure they were all he was gonna have left.


	7. C-5: Maternity

She had been gone for far longer than planned. By now the others would have long since left the meeting.

Lucina left the Major's audience with a renewed energy in her step. The young woman flew through the streets and winding roads at a speed that was only found in her renewed resolve. Gone from her mind were the thoughts of the night prior. The jeers and cries of nobles seemed like a distant, horrible dream.

When she had first begun these excursions into the slums, she had done it out of a sense of frustration. Day after day fighting in the ash laiden fields of Ylisse often left her survivors hopeless. In the end their actions only earned them one more sunrise of meager existence. Aimlessness was a plight that afflicted them all.

Now she dived into her extrajudicial work with glee. The fruits of her labor were all present around her; a city that stood. Nowhere else in southern Archena could claim that. The remaining bastions all remained to the north close to the coast. But here they could not only survive and endure, they could truly rebuild. They just needed to succeed.

It would work. She _knew_ it would work. As long as she had her friends by her side, there was no force that could stop her.

As she slithered back through the hole in the wall, Lucina gracefully fell into the palace courtyard. The brown shawl fell away from the royal, revealing her deep blue armor once more. She was Marth no more, and once again became the head of House Lowell.

And unfortunately for her, she was not as stealthy as she had hoped.

Dew coated grass compressed behind her, the faint sound finding its way to her ears. Lucina took pause, before feeling an unfamiliar pressure poke at the base of her spine. It was pointed and sharp, stinging notably. Beads of sweat began to form on her brown as she now recognized it as the tip of a blade, her breath choking in her throat.

Had a risen made its way into the palace? No, no. A mindless shambler knew nothing of stealth, and would not toy with her like this. A human then? Assassins were not unheard of, her aunt had been murdered by a group of them in this very domicile before she was born. But who would dare attempt to assault her within the walls of her home!? How could they make it past the multitude of guards!?

Warmth wafted against her as her assailant came close. She almost stirred into action, but the weapon still made itself known. Moist breath encased her ear, spurring her to twitch from wence she had been still as a statue.

"Sloppy." A familiar voice stated. One that, once it had made itself known, caused all tension and fear in Lucina's breast to deflate.

"Phila..." Lucina observed, disgruntled ambivalence taking emotional control.

The aging Captain chuckled at her pupil's dismay, drawing the weapon back and moving forth into Lucina's view. The bloodied clouds above them shone off her golden armor like an ethereal aura, a masterwork brave lance now cradled in both her arms almost as if she was holding a small child.

"Don't get upset with me, your highness." She berated through a lopsided smirk. "All you had to do was turn around, I was only leaning against the wall."

"And how was I supposed to expect one of your surprise tests?" Lucina replied, trying to defend herself.

"Well it wouldn't very well be a surprise if you expected it." Phila explained, as if she was stating the most obvious fact in the world. Fumes could practically be seen coiling from Lucina's ears, but her senior either did not notice or did not care. "You're late."

"I was busy." Lucina clarified, walking forward through an arc and into the palace proper.

"Yes, galavanting through the city. I'm sure 'Marth' is very much loved by the downtrodden." Phila mocked relentlessly, even as red came to overtake Lucina's cheeks.

"H-how did you-" Lucina stammered.

"I have eyes and ears across this city." Phila continued in the same condescending tone, lecturing the student. "Besides, someone has to keep that head on your shoulders."

The two women went back and forth, Phila informing Lucina on the day's happenings while they walked towards the Shepherd's barracks. An envoy had arrived from Regina Ferox with an intended rendezvous point. Members of the senate opposed to her plan had agreed to a meeting later tonight. The role of stateswoman always hung over her, it was hard to believe once she actually found the politics of court _entertaining_.

That was long ago, when she was young enough to be carried about the palace on her Father's shoulders. When the armor of shining armor of knights and outlandish personalities of the nobility all seemed so new and refreshing to the young mind. She was living a storied life. The Princess of a realm, and heir apparent no doubt. Everything caught her attention back then.

But that fascination had been replaced with the doldrums of another day. If she was not fighting on a battlefield, she was fighting in court. If a sword did not work, a silver tongue was required. Everyone wanted something, and they all tried to use her to get it. Her duty was giving what was needed and culling what was only lusted after.

Envoys from Ferox were a change from the norm, at least. The Barbarian Kingdom had little in the way of tact and pomp, it's denizens preferring blunt and direct speech. With them she merely spoke the truth, and received it in kind. Good allies to have when honesty itself was becoming a commodity.

Those shopkeepers, their actions still unsettled her. How could someone do such a thing, even for family? Surely the greater good of those around them outweigh the needs of the few. Not only for food, but for duty. All people still able assisted in the city somehow; either through conscription or labor. Soldiers need to be trained and replaced, walls need to be built and fortified. Weapons smithed, horses tended, spells slung. The need of the self meant nothing when survival depended on all.

And yet that invasive thought soon wormed it's way into her mind as well as she walked alongside her teacher. If she was forced to choose between duty and those she cared for, what would be her choice?

Now she understood why the Knight-Captain's anger was directed at her.

Duty.

Always duty. No matter the cost, she of all people couldn't afford the luxury of desire. The benefit of all mattered far more than the wishes of one frazzled girl. She had her mission, and she would accomplish it.

Damned be anything or anyone who got in her way.

Both reached a small greenery near the west wing of the palace, pausing at the Captain's request so she could take in the few flowers that could bloom in Ylisstol. The Exalt turned to face a displeased Phila. But her usual look of a drill sergeant's disappointment, more of a mother's concern. Her eyes were soft, like pools of water. Her mouth formed a thin line, the ends curling down as if weighed by gravity itself.

A butterfly flew about their heads, resting calmly atop the pistil of a flower. Lucina was drawn to the blue insect, it almost seemed to be watching her. Such a regal creature must have other tasks to deal with in the day though. How animals managed to survive in such a world was quite beyond her.

She was ripped away from her daydream quickly, Phila's words taking center stage in her mind.

"How much can you remember about your Aunt Lissa?" Phila began, much to Lucina's surprise. She could count the amount of times her Aunt was mentioned by the officer on a single hand. "Enough I hope, though it has been some time now."

Lucina nodded her head, unable to forget the woman even if she tried. Lissa had been a cleric of some renown in her youth, but as she became older she'd moved onto other specialities. By the time she had passed, her grace and humanity were legendary throughout the nation.

"I still remember the day she grew up." Phila explained softly, gently tugging Lucina's hand away from her sword into the clasp of her own steel mitts. "You were young, and the Valmese had invaded Regina Ferox. After the port fell she felt responsible for not being able to protect the soldiers."

"Knowing her, she did more than anyone else would have." Lucina reminisce fondly. Lissa was the kindest, wisest soul she had known as a child. She'd raised them on her own, along with her own son and the other castle children.

"That War altered her. I doubt you would even recognize your Aunt, she was so carefree and energetic." Phila muttered sadly. "You used to be so much like she once was."

"The apocalypse does that to people." Lucina answered sarcastically, but she did so with a smile. One that spread to Phila infectiously.

"Strike me down, was that snark from the most grave woman in this city?" Phila uttered in disbelief. "I should grab one of the historians, make sure this is recorded. It's unlikely to ever happen again."

Lucina played along, laughing sardonically to the soldier's dry wit. "...Why mention her?"

"Because during her five years as Exalt, she managed something key; she remained the best of us." Phila laid out. "No matter how bleak things became she never became cruel or cold. You know this as well as I do."

Lucina nodded once more in agreement, letting Phila finish. "Child, I cannot follow you on this madwoman's mission of yours. But I want you to promise me you won't lose yourself." Her grip around Lucina's hand became tighter, as if clutching desperately to a ledge before falling. "No matter what you see or what you have to do. You need to remain the woman you are."

"I fail to see how the woman I am is anything to be regarded." Lucina belittled.

This prompted Phila to lift one hand up, then flick the young woman harshly on the forehead. Lucina cried out, quickly rubbing at the pain as she already felt a bump forming.

"Even with all the blessings you inherited from your parents, you were also cursed with Sumia's baseless self loathing." Phila remarked bitterly, narrowing her eyes. "Stop trying to be perfect, you fool girl! Perfection does not exist!"

"I need to-" Lucina began, only to be silenced once more from the murderous ire that leaked out of Phila's being.

"Pipe down and listen." The old woman croned, shaking her head. "I have no intention of watching this generation repeat the follies of the last."

"You talk as if it was your fault." Lucina took note, meaning to lash out as she was continuously admonished. However, she instantly regretted the words as Phila flinched as if she'd spat in her face.

Silence reigned over the two for a few moments longer, before Lucina wordlessly guided them towards a bench. A row of poppies wrapped around the worn down wood, acting as a shroud. The planks creaked as they sat, but it still held firm under both their weight.

"The Queen never forgave herself for her missteps." Phila reminisced. The vibrantly verbose woman's words suddenly taking a plain, hollow sound as they hung in the air. "I still remember the day she was shipped here. The middle child of a Baron. A noble in only name. What little she would inherit would fade away to dust."

Phila's eyes seemed to focus solely on the flowers that surrounded them. Not out of interest, but necessity. They kept her tied to the world when her body seemed to be floating away with her memories. "No one expected her to pass the knight examination. They called her the 'ugly ducking' in training. In our armor she always seemed to waddle about, falling to and fro. No grace, no poise, no confidence. So many people wanted me to eject her."

Lucina nodded mutely, not wishing to interrupt. Both her hands were resting over Phila's, calmly splayed on her leg. "Something about her was… special. Something beneath it all."

"Skill?" Lucina queried meekly.

"Gods no, she had no natural talent at all." Phila answered with a dry laugh, the past forcing her to smile once more. Her companion found it a bit disconcerting to hear her mother's ability dismissed so casually, but voiced no protest.

"She had an unbreakable spirit." Phila revealed. "I had two girls under my direct tutelage then, because I saw in them our future. My goal was to have them both take the Company over in my stead. The first was the mind of our Order… your mother was the soul."

Phila then weakly lifted her hand. It prodded limply against the cold steel of Lucina's chestplate. "You inherited that soul, dear. All of it's benefits and all of it's flaws. Whenever I see you and Cynthia… it's like she's with us again. That alone brings me enough joy."

Even if it was merely a faint touch, the Exalt could feel the pressure drill deep to her core. The heart of a Pegasus Knight. What did that even mean?

Bravery? Well, she certainly had that in spades. Will? Lucina was willful enough, few dared to challenge her way. Wit? She was a fine enough tactician.

No… no, she was missing something in all this.

"The Mind and the Soul. They were so often in contrast with one another, yet at the same time inseparable." Phila mumbled. "Other members of the Order were my sisters. They… they were my daughters."

This declaration settled itself into Lucina's mind. It was the first time that Phila could speak about her mother, the topic was still sore even after a decade had passed since the woman perished. When she was younger she would ask, and ask, but never she could never get a detail from the woman.

The revelation that she had seen Sumia as a surrogate child explained much. Why she cared for not only her, but her younger sibling.

It made her feel warm.

"Then I'm proud to have you as a grandmother." She admitted. "All four of us are."

Phila found the strength to drag her head up and look at her ward once more. Her brows rose in surprise, but soon her eyes snapped shut. Tears began to well, her chest shaking as she fought to keep the sobs in.

For once, Lucina chose not to think. The girl did what came naturally to her when she saw someone so close in such a state. She pulled the defeated woman in and hugged her with what strength she could bring.

And the two sat there, silently weeping for what they had both lost.


	8. C-6: Do You Need Anybody?

Their footsteps still marked the dust.

Lucina paced about the room, her path tracing a semi-circle through the translucent atmosphere. A simple lit candlestick illuminated the forlorn room, giving the thick film of debris that covered the walls, shelves and desk an ethereal glow. The air itself shimmered with light life, awakened after such a long hibernation.

It had been years since anyone had stepped into Robin's old office.

His chambers had been given the same treatment as those of all other fallen Shepards, cordoned off and avoided. It was their children's form of reverence, letting what used to be their living domiciles become shrines to the fallen. These rooms, this building, was sacrosanct to each of them. Their last living memory.

The fact that she was violating that unspoken rule would have earned her scorn from all of her friends. Morgan especially would tan her hide if she ever found out.

It wasn't the first room she'd visited. That was her father's, a haphazard mess of place that was anything but regal. After that was her mother's, which better resembled a library than a bedroom. Finally she'd come here, this final sanctum of the man who helped raise her.

The tactician had always been a cold man to most. Snide and sarcastic, always ready to crack a joke at another's expense. He spoke with no empathy or care for those around him, merely a detached analysis of the world he never seemed to hold much fondness for.

His actions were the polar opposite, he was always the first to shield anyone in harm's way. Some kind of odd reflex of his, he had the drive to protect all he could, even if it meant having to destroy something as a sacrifice.

An odd man, who'd created a rather odd family, who had resided in this odd room.

Maps, charts and battleplans lined the room as if it was wallpaper. Tomes and texts lay stacked on his desk, three laying open waiting for their deceased owner to purvey them. Notes were scrawled and strewn all over, both in Ylissean and Plegian script.

Lucina finally stopped in the center of it all, the specs in the air teasing and tickling her nose. She sneezed loudly, sniffling before wiping away at her nose.

"Are you there Uncle?" The royal questioned the room around her, answered with expected silence. "We're leaving soon. I've said my goodbyes to everyone else, you're the last one."

The dust and mites settled on her head and shoulders, clinging to the fabric of her armor as she looked about. Her heart pounded harshly in her chest, as if the eyes of a hundred men and women were boring to her once more.

"Morgan's taken your old post." She droned. "By force, frankly. When I was crowned she made it clear she would follow in your footsteps."

The memory hit her like a runaway carriage. Only an hour after the ceremony, during the reception, the child had proudly professed to everyone she would take the role of Grandmaster. She was merely thirteen years old, and if anyone else had spoken such a word she'd have been utterly ignored.

Not her. Not the girl who'd learned how to ride a pegasus before she was even eight. Not the girl who already touted arcane ability as naturally as breathing. Not the girl who time and time again managed to out think men and women _triple_ her age.

"She's nothing like you." Lucina observed. "Bubbly, aloof, active. Never without a smile on her face. It's refreshing to have someone always so optimistic."

The girl paced over to the desk and table, running a finger along the aged wood. "Cynthia misses you too. My little sister seems to remember you better than she does our own father… then again I suppose you saw after us far more often than he had time to."

The dead chamber bade her no reply as expected. She may as well be speaking to the man's tomestone.

Lucina sighed in exasperation, sitting down in the simple wooden chair as the leaks creaked and cried like a wounded animal. "What do I do?" She asked in a small voice. "When we jump through the portal, what comes next? We don't even know how Grima returned, let alone where to start…"

Both face moved to shroud her hands as she observed the words on the page in front of her.

' _Shatter points…'_ she thought, leaning further forward as she kept reading off the lines. ' _When encountering a defensive line, one must exploit the weakest place in said line. A strong strike can cause the whole entrenchment to fall apart, leaving an opening for your troops to flood in.'_

She turned the page, more dust flying into her face and causing her to sneeze once more. But she read on undeterred. ' _The same can be used when assaulting a formation. A single mage can be used to disperse a group of knights, which in turn can allow more mobile units such as cavaliers to rush into the new gap and divide the line.'_

' _Each case is a shatter point. Finding and exploiting these points can turn the tide in a battle.'_

"Exploit the weakness to break the chain…" Lucina mumbled vocally, her brow furrowing in thought. "This… this is exactly it. This is what we need to do!"

She lifted her head and swung back and forth, looking about the room with a gleeful smile. Lucina stood up at once, giggling as the revelation came to her about their next step. The girl even hopped up and down in place, beyond herself as her plan continued to bloom within her mind.

"I… I need to speak with Morgan and Laurent!" Lucina explained in a single breath, excusing herself from the room with that final phrase. Afterwards the hallowed barracks were swiftly emptied, the Exalt rushing back into the core of the palace to research her plan.

The office returned to it's solemn silence, dust again settling over the freshly laid tracks and trails. The wood creaked back into place, sounding almost like an amused grunt.

* * *

As Lucina burst through the doors of the palace's War Room, five people turned to face her. Four of whom were the Shepherds still present in Ylisstol, staring forth with expressions ranging from surprise, to bemusement to relief.

She wanted to know _why_ two voices had been yelling in here, but at the moment she had more urgent priorities.

The room itself mirrored a renovated version of Robin's office. Charts and maps lined the walls here as well, paired with racks of assorted weapons. Towers of tomes stacked high all over the place, some used by Morgan for work while others used for some absurd game Lucina paid no mind to.

Her eyes gravitated to the table in the center of the room where her compatriots stood. Morgan in the center, flanked by Cynthia and Owain. Laurent was off to the side, flipping through a wayward arcfire tome.

At the head of the table stood redheaded girl with a long ponytail. She wore a maroon beret and matching cape, with a white and red corset framing her form. Pouches hung from her belt, from a coin purse to ones bursting with medicines and daggers.

"Anna?" Lucina asked, striding forward to the center of the room. "What in the world are you doing here?"

Laurent spoke next, sighing in clear disapproval. "She's lobbying to come with us, and we're trying to talk her out of it."

" _You're_ trying to stop me, and you're doing a horrible job at it. More reason for me to come along, none of you can haggle for your life!" Anna cried out, puffing her cheeks indignantly.

"Yes, because time travel requires _barter skills_." Laurent replied sarcastically, earning him a raspberry blown over from the unamused trader.

Lucina chuckled at the sight, moving to stand at Anna's side. "Anna, we're only bringing the Shepherds for this foray. Too many people and we could draw undue attention."

"Plus we need solid fighters." Cynthia followed up, head resting on her arm propped on the table.

"How did she even get _in here!?"_ Owain asked Cynthia, having moved around so he could whisper into his cousin's ear. The blue haired pegasus knight shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes remained aimed up towards the suspiciously open skylight.

Anna smirked at Owain's distress, as did Morgan. "But I'm guessing you're not here because of that Lucy?" The tactician ventured, drumming her hands on the hardened oak playfully.

Lucina shook her head, then waved Laurent over from his brooding. The mage compiled at once, standing to the side of his Exalt while maintaining a stink eye at Anna's general direction.

"Where's Severa?" Lucina queried, wondering where her retainer had disappeared too.

Morgan's smile broke, like someone jabbed her in the gut. The small girl shrunk away at the mention of the mercenary, looking like she wanted to dive under the table so she could escape the question. Before Lucina could follow up, Cynthia chimed in.

"She's doing her rounds at the guard towers!" The Pegasus Knight boldly lied, head shooting up as she sat straight again. No one knew where exactly she was, having stormed off after Morgan's declaration. "Said something boring about 'checking the guards'. You know how much of a fun burglar she is."

Lucina hummed, but took the statement at face value, much to the relief of everyone else present at the table par Anna. She herself stood there confused, well aware of how the others were acting rather skittish about the topic.

"I came to discuss what we were going to do after the ritual." Lucina explained, quickly drawing the attention of her audience once more. "Laurent, how much do you know about the history of the second Plegian War?"

"As much as our historians recorded." Laurent informed, no longer attempting to melt Anna to ash with his eyes. "The war was three years long. The tide only turned when Lord Chrom managed to slay King Gangrel in the retaking of Themis."

"The city was half destroyed in the battle." Morgan interjected, having studied the battle extensively as it was her father's first official operation as the Grandmaster of the realm. "Before that basically the entire border between Ylisse and Plegia was mulched."

"I recall that much." Lucina affirmed, stroking her chin in thought. "Do you remember what sparked the conflict?"

"The uh… border pass!" Cynthia chirped. "When that weirdo Gangrel kidnapped Brady's mom!"

"Scarface's Mom got kidnapped?" Anna asked. "Wasn't she a Valkyrie? Those guys are tough as nails."

"Lady Maribelle did not become a Valkyrie until after the War, and after she became Duchess of Themis proper." Laurent corrected snidely, the corner of his mouth turning up in a self-assured smirk.

Anna opened her mouth to fire back, but Lucina lifted her hand quickly. "Focus. The War, what caused it to drag on for three years?"

"The bravery of our ancestors, staunchly refusing to surrender!" Owain exclaimed, hopping onto the table suddenly to take center stage. Laurent groaned as the man began his performance, while Morgan and Cynthia were clearly trying to hold back a fit of laughter.

"Against insurmountable odds, our predecessors rode forth and lead Ylisse gloriously to victory and legend!" Owain continued, drawing out his blade and holding it at the ready. He trapsed dangerously about the table's edge, leaning over his audience as he uttered every word.

"Lord Chrom, with his staunch allies by his side, cutting through legions of dastardly foes!" He swung into the air, blade sailing over Cynthia's head as she lost composure and began cackling at the sight.

"Even when outnumbered ten to one, the heroes did not break!" Another swing, this time catching the hem of Anna's ponytail. The hair was almost sliced off the woman's head, if not for the fact that she swiftly ducked below the table to avoid just that.

Completely oblivious to the fact that he nearly gave one of his friends and unwanted haircut, Owain continued. "Nay, the fought to the end, knowing that eventually justice would prevail over the cruelty of such a madman. Even when Ferox refused to help them, with armies doggedly hunting them down across the continent, they remained resolute. They-"

"Thank you for the overview, cousin." Lucina firmly stated, a strained smile worn on her face that contrasted the murderous desire of Anna. Now it was Morgan's turn to break, doubling over in laughter and falling back out of her chair.

Looking at the scene and finally getting the message, Owain meekly sheathed his weapon and hopped back down.

"...As far as I know, two main factors prolonged the War." Lucina reminisced. "One, the Feroxi refused to join either side. Two, both leaders were quite resolute in wiping out the other."

"Did Daddy _really_ want to wipe out Plegia?" Cynthia asked, not able to imagine the blue haired warrior calling for the total destruction of a nation.

"After the Exalt before him was assassinated, many scholars say he developed a deep hatred for the nation." Laurent informed, scowling. A part of history he wished he was not privy to, some of Lord Chrom's campaigns in the war rivaled the destructive capacity of his own Father.

"...That's it. That's what we need to change!" Lucina cried out.

Morgan pulling her chair back up to try and reintroduce herself into the conversation. "Uh… what? How do we get Uncle Chrom to not get so angry?"

"We stop Emmeryn's assassination." Laurent answered, understanding dawning on him. "The Exalt lives, Plegia does not acquire the Fire Emblem, and Chrom becomes far less dogmatic."

"Plus he won't have that limp from the night of the attack…" Cynthia recalled. In his later years, her father had to trade the Falchon away for a spear when it came to battle. The night of Emmeryn's death, he suffered a crippling injury that almost removed him from warfare entirely. As he aged he couldn't even handle the ancient blade properly, and it was passed onto Lucina.

"Still doesn't change that the War happens." Anna pointed out.

"The War was inevitable, everyone knew Gangrel wanted to attack the Halidom." Laurent once again quipped, adjusting his glasses as he dodged a slug Anna threw at his arm. "Frankly, Lord Chrom can just as easily be wounded in a proper battle in place of the attack on this palace."

"Then you shorten the War." Morgan answered, all heads turning towards her to explain. She rolled her eyes but kept her mischievous grin, clicking her tongue before laying her thought process out. "The reason things dragged on was because Plegia and Ylisse had roughly the same sized armies at the end of things. So, tip the scales in Ylisse's favor. Give them more numbers."

"...Have Ferox join the War." Lucina mumbled. "But how in the world do we do that?"

Morgan shrugged. "Lotta ways. Provoke'em with a false flag attack, but that'd probably mean innocent people would get hurt."

"Out of the question." Lucina affirmed.

"I agree, so you'd need to make them want to side with Ylisse." Morgan went on. "How? I have no clue. We'd need to ask Inigo, he's the only Feroxi in our group anyway."

"Where is Lover Boy anyway?" Anna asked. "Or Grumbles, or Muscles, or Bitey. Scarface and Quiet're missing too."

While Cynthia and Owain went on to explain where the rest of their compatriots were currently residing, Lucina retreated back into the depths of her mind. The rest of the room melted away from the Exalt's perception as things began to link together.

The didn't know why Grima came back, merely that he had when her Father went to the Dragon's Table when a messenger informed him that the Grimleal were now in possession of the Emblem. After that, he and Queen Sumia perished. Grima rose, and the rest she lived through every day.

But if they kept the Emblem in Ylisse, then Chrom would have never gone after it. Emmeryn would still rule, and would be more likely to broker peace. Ferox would have a stronger alliance with Ylisse, which would help solidify the two's defense when Valm invaded.

Less death, less discontent in Plegia. The Grimleal wouldn't resurge as they had here. No one would try to resurrect the Fell Dragon.

It was a longshot, but the logic was there. If enough changed, then Grima surely wouldn't be revived.

"So great, we have a plan." Anna chipped in again. "When do we leave?"

"When did we agree on you joining us?" Laurent asked, nearing his boiling point with agitation.

"You don't need to agree about it Specs, I'm going and that's final." The merchant once again professed.

Lucina sighed, shaking her head. "Anna, I know you want to come but-"

"You want reasons? Fine, OK." Anna started, lifting a finger. "I'm the best archer out of us all. None of you know how to use a bow."

"She's not wrong." Morgan points out, Laurent shifting his glower over to her.

Anna extended another finger. "I'm the only decent healer you know except Scarface." She jerked a thumb at Cynthia. "Stumbles tries but she ain't a Falcon Knight, if you catch my drift."

Cynthia laughed nervously, twisting one of her pigtails in her hands. It was a bit embarrassing that she didn't have the same healing prowess as her mother _or_ her aunt.

Another finger went up. "When we get there, _someone_ has to get us money. Unless you're all interested in becoming brigands?"

Everyone shook their head at that comment, even Laurent.

And then the final finger went up. "Did it ever occur to you that I want to see _my_ parents too?"

That last point made everyone balk. No one dared open their mouth in protest.

"...I say she comes." Morgan voted. Owain and Cynthia nodded in agreement.

"She isn't even a Shepherd." Laurent grumbled. "For all we know she's just looking for an escape from Ylisse."

Anna grit her teeth and snarled, her fists clenching as the mage brought up that sore spot. "The only reason I'm not a Shepherd is because I had to keep the family business going. Sorry I don't go around saving people for a living."

"Enough." Lucina stated. "Anna, you can come. I'm sorry I did not ask before."

Defeated, Laurent shook his head and paced back over to the tomes he had been perusing before. Meanwhile Anna grinned from ear to ear and smacked the Exalt's back with an open handed palm. "Don't worry about it, Blue! I'm just glad you came to your senses."

Lucina laughed softly, then looked across the table. "Owain, Cynthia, we need to go prepare for tonight's Senate vote." She announced as she turned and left the room. Both other members of the Exalted family followed after her, Cynthia tripping over herself at the door while Owain picked his cousin up and helped out out.

"Guess _I'll_ go get my stuff ready." Anna quipped, sticking her tongue out at Laurent before skipping out the door.

As the large wood panels shut again, Laurent growled as he slammed the book shut. "Insufferable con artist."

"Oh loosen up." Morgan leaned back in her chair, both hands going behind her back as she put her feet up on the table. Owain's little dance made the thing even more of a mess than it was usually, so she may as well just embrace it. "Just because your Dad and her Dad didn't like each other doesn't mean you two need to keep up the feud."

The mage huffed. "Ironic, considering you're friends with the Exalt mostly because of _your_ parentage. Outside of that you contrast one another starkly."

"Opposites attract." The tactician added with a shrug "Sides, Cincy's my best friend. I'd probably be close with her sister anyway."

Laurent hummed, grabbing a different tome and flipping it open. "...Why didn't you tell her?"

Morgan frowned as he brought that unpleasantness back up, the girl thinking back to the fight they had back in the Shepherds' barracks. After her announcement, she and Severa had also had their own private screaming match.

Said encounter was why the mercenary was not present. She'd run off in fury shortly after. Both girls had said things to one another they quickly came to regret. Morgan sighed somberly, focusing on the door as she tried to think where Severa had run off too.

"I've already ruined one relationship today. I'll burn that bridge later."

* * *

 ** _A/N: In case my description was poor, this Anna is wearing the same outfit as she does in Warriors_**

 ** _Next chapter is where things hit the fan._**


End file.
